The Day Draco Made A New Friend
by SlytherinHoney
Summary: A Muggle stops into a bar for a drink. He soon finds out it was the WRONG bar to walk into. Now the Aurors are after him (whatever THOSE are) and Draco Malfoy has an extremely comfortable couch. But he really wants to know- Why on earth can't HE have a wand? It's just not fair.
1. Chapter 1

**I OWN NOTHING (except for the OC, Malcolm). ALL CREDIT GOES TO JK ROWLING AND HER FANTASTIC BRAIN.**

**THIS FANFIC TAKES PLACE POST- HOGWARTS. EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN THE BOOKS IS AN ACCURATE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THIS STORY TAKES PLACE. ANY MISTAKES WITHIN THIS STORY ARE PURELY THE RESULT OF MY FAULTY MEMORY. THERE IS A *tiny* REFERENCE TO TWILIGHT BUT ONLY BECAUSE I'M POKING FUN (apologies... kind of)- IT IS NOT A CROSSOVER FIC. ALSO, PLEASE DISREGARD THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.**

**Warning: Could be plans in the works for a slashy-good-time. Try and stop me, I dare you. This is a work of humor mainly, but I fly by the seat of my pants when I write so even *I* don't know where this is going. But I can promise chuckles in each chapter.  
**

**Reviews are always appreciated. It definitely gives me motivation to continue writing this. (Thanks all! You know who you are)**

**Have fun, readers!**

_Oh my god, why can't it be nighttime?!_ Malcolm thought as he flew through the streets, pushing people out of his way. An owl swooped low over his head and he swatted at it. He jumped over a pile of broken broomsticks and nearly ran headlong into a portly gentleman in a deep purple gown.

"Oi! Watch it, lad!"

Malcolm dodged around him, looking back over his shoulder frantically. They were still after him! Two women and three men were pointing sticks at him and shouting at passerby to get out of the way so they could Stun him. But it was too crowded along the street and Malcolm know they didn't want to shoot magic at him for fear of hitting innocent people. Suddenly they all disappeared as a large crowd of people began crossing the street, laughing and giggling. There was shouting and several of the young women in the crowd screamed.

"MOVE!"

A tall man with white blonde hair was watching the spectacle with curiosity and as Malcolm was darting past, he reached out a pale hand.

"_Merlin's beard, get your arse in here_," the blonde man hissed and jerked Malcolm into a shadowy alcove.

Malcolm tripped and grabbed hold of the man's robes causing them both to stagger and slam into the mossy covered stone wall.

"Mmph! Watch it!" he huffed and pushed Malcolm to the side.

"Good lord, I didn't think I'd cause this much trouble," Malcolm panted.

"What are you _thinking_? How did you get here?" the blonde man interrogated him. Several men and women rushed past the entrance to the alcove, huffing and puffing.

"Where'd 'eh go? Damn it, how'd a Muggle get through the Leaky Cauldron? Bernard! The other way, tha's where he went!"

"Are you really a Muggle?" the blonde man hissed at him again, glaring at Malcolm as if he were a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"Er… what?" he answered.

The blonde man grimaced. Apparently that was not the answer he wanted to hear.

"Great. Just bloody great," the blonde man groaned and swept his hair out of his eyes.

Malcolm shouldered as much pride as he could before answering.

"I would never have stopped in for a drink if I'd have known it would get me in this mess."

The shouting, which had faded before, was getting closer again.

"You aren't even supposed to _see_ the Leaky Cauldron, much less stop for a drink, you imbecile," the blonde man snarled.

"_Well fuck me then, I couldn't help it!" _His panic was beginning to rise again and backed against the wall again, waiting for the strange men and women to find him hiding in the shadows.

"Oh come on!" the blonde man said and yanked at Malcolm's wrist.

The next thing he knew, everything was a blur. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He thought he was going to die. Bands of pressure squeezed his lungs shut so tightly, he couldn't move or think. Then suddenly, he found himself crouched on all fours on cold marble gasping for air and thanking the gods above that he hadn't bit the dust.

"What… in… the bloody… hell-"

His vision was coming back into focus and he stared upward at the blonde man who was making a very nasty face as he studied him. He hadn't noticed before that he was wearing the same type of gown as the other strange people in the pub and on the streets (that he'd never seen before).

"How did you get into Diagon Alley?"

"I told you, I just walked into the pub for a drink. Bloody Christ. How many times do I have to explain myself? They all started coming after me so I _ran_. Are they some sort of weirdo coppers or something?" Malcolm asked, still wheezing to catch his breath.

"Those are Aurors. How did you manage to get out of there without being Stunned?" the man asked. Something in his pompous voice was intrigued and accusatory.

Malcolm staggered to his feet and looked around. He was, amazingly, no longer hunkered down in a dank alcove. He was in a foyer. A very _expansive_ foyer and it was blissfully free of _Aurors_ and other mad people shouting and chasing him. A fireplace roared to his right and a grandfather clock ticked away the time. He saw the couch and immediately crossed the rug, sinking thankfully into the soft cushions. He sighed as his aching body relaxed and melted into the fabric.

"Excuse me, I didn't offer you to sit anywhere you want-"

"What's your name, buddy?" Malcolm asked and kicked off his shoes. There was a strangled sound of disgust behind him.

"Draco Malfoy and _get off my couch_," he demanded. His voice reverberated throughout the quiet house and Malcolm listened to Draco marching smartly toward him.

"After what I've just been through? No thank you. But yeah, thanks for pulling my arse out of the fire back there," Malcolm replied.

At that exact moment, they both spoke.

"Is it cool if I crash here for a bit?"

"You are _not_ staying in my house."

They both stared at each other and Malcolm couldn't help but laugh at the look of horror he was receiving.

"What's your name, Muggle?"

"Malcolm Jackson," he answered and put his hands behind his head. Draco was standing resolutely in front of the fireplace looking unsure of what to do. His hands twitched toward the piece of elongated wood strapped to his side.

"Is that really a weapon?" Malcolm asked. Draco glanced down and then back at him, squinting his grey eyes.

"Usually," he responded.

"Can I have one? I mean, if you have a spare one. I don't want those people to come after me again," Malcolm asked.

Draco sneered.

"What are you going to do? _Poke them in the eye_? You're not a wizard. You're a _Muggle_," he answered. Then he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Malcolm to himself in the unfamiliar, if expensively cozy, room.

"What in the bloody hell is a Muggle?" he mumbled to himself and hunkered down, determined to catch a nap before trying to find his way back to the London hotel he had been staying at.

_Magic really does exist. How about that…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Grrraaaahhhhh!"

Draco yelped, lost his step and reached up to grab hold of a dress robe for balance but his fingers scrambled futilely on the fabric. He tumbled to the floor in the most undignified manner with an "Oomph!" He shot back upward, heart in his throat and scrambled like a madman out of his closet, racing through his bedroom, down the long corridor and down the main staircase with his wand out.

"…so sorry. You're actually kind of cute," he heard.

"Ye- yes, sir. Tibby is m-most grateful."

"What do you mean by it?!" Draco demanded. The auburn-haired Muggle (he resisted rolling his eyes as he reminded himself the man's name was Malcolm) looked up at him pleasantly and patted his house elf on the head.

"Nothing. Got sort of freaked out. What _is_ this thing? It's _adorable_," Malcolm answered and grinned down at the bug-eyed house elf. Tibby looked extremely uncomfortable and her ears twitched helplessly as Malcolm scratched her head like a dog. She looked up at Draco with a pleading expression.

Draco's eyes rolled to the ceiling.

_He is scratching the elf's ears. My god, what have I gotten myself into?_

"Can you please not do that?" Draco demanded, stowing his wand back in his pocket.

Malcolm slowly retracted his hand and shoved them both in his pockets.

"That, for your information, is my house elf. Kindly refrain from molesting the help from now on, thank you," Draco grimaced.

"Oh! No, I'm not attracted to, er, elves and such. He, ah, that is… She…erm. Well it woke me up to ask me if I wanted any tea and I might have overreacted."

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, still looking down at Tibby in curiosity and amazement.

"_She_."

Malcolm's expression was that of dawning comprehension and a bit guilty, at that.

"So sorry, miss," he told Tibby in a carrying whisper. Tibby twitched a bit, still determinedly staring up at Draco as if afraid to acknowledge the stranger.

"Tibby, go down to the kitchens and ready dinner for the evening. We have a… _guest,_" Draco shooed her away. The last word came out in a groan.

Malcolm grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

"So what exactly does a house elf do? Do they carry wands too? Why can't I have a wand? Where can I buy one? How come witches and wizards exist? Why do you call me a Muggle? What _is_ a Muggle, on that note? Do you like to pull rabbits out of hats? Is Halloween your favorite holiday? I mean, you know, the pointy hat thing can only be pulled off once a year. What is an Auror? Why did they try to kill me? Oh lord, _were they trying to kill me_? What happens if they show up here? Am I going to a magic jail or something? Honestly, I don't know if I'm the _right_ type of person to take imprisonment in good nature-"

Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_Will you please shut up_!" he demanded. He could feel the edges of his nerves fraying and unraveling. Never in his life had he been so annoyed, it was downright torture.

Malcolm shoveled a fork full of chocolate gateau into his mouth. His brown eyes never once left Draco's pale, pointed face.

"_What?_" Draco asked, feeling on the verge of murder and wondering if the Dark Lord might have had a point the entire time. _This_ Muggle would have been the first to kick the bucket, there was no doubt in Draco's mind. Draco, having come a long way since Hogwarts, was finding himself feeling disappointed Potter had finished him off.

"Oh nothing. Just wondering why you haven't turned me in yet. Why did you save my life, anyway?" Malcolm asked.

Draco felt a bubbling in his gut that made him feel like vomiting… or cursing Malcolm the Muggle into oblivion.

"I did _not_ save your life, you degenerate sack of pus. And I haven't turned you in yet because I'm curious as to why you were even able to bumble your pathetic way into the Leaky Cauldron," Draco explained. "If I had left you on your own, the Aurors would have Stunned and Obliviated you. Questions come later in those situations."

Malcolm's eyes were wide.

"Obil- Obivlit-"

"Obliviate," Draco gritted his teeth and took a hearty swig of Firewhisky.

"Right. That," Malcolm pointed his finger at Draco. "They would have done that to me? Wait, what does that even mean?"

"Your memories of having ever sodded off in Diagon Alley would have been permanently erased," Draco explained.

"Oh. That's not _too_ bad, I suppose. I figured they would have shoved one of those stick thingies up my rear end or something."

Draco choked on his Firewhisky.

"Are you going to Obulate me? I mean, after _you_ figure out why I could see that stupid pub… seeing as I don't have a clue," Malcolm asked conversationally, digging his fork into another section of chocolate gateau.

Draco took a deep breath to think for a moment. It wasn't working very well. There was a _Muggle_ sitting in his mother's place at the dining room table, for god's sake!

"You eat like a pig," Draco sneered.

Malcolm raised his fork and his eyebrow.

"You eat like a poofter," he replied with a wink.

"A what?" Draco asked. He looked down at his own plate in confusion and wiped his fingers on the napkin next to his silverware.

"If you tell me what a Muggle is, I will tell you what a _poofter_ is," Malcolm said and shoved the cake into his mouth.

Curiosity tugged at him. It was an unpleasant feeling and it was getting much more difficult to quell.

"A Muggle is a non-magical person. You aren't gifted in the art of wizardry. So-what's a _poofter_?" Draco finally relented, eyeballing Malcolm. He refused to pick up any utensils until this curiosity was laid to rest… if Draco detested anything it was behaving in any strange manner, including the way he ate his food.

Malcolm the Muggle placed his fork gently upon the plate and raised both hands. He then put his two pointer fingers together and made a motion with them Draco didn't understand right away.

"When a man and another man love each other very much…"

Draco shoved his chair back and exited the room in a huff.

"Bah!" he shouted and waved his arms around his head as if warding off bothersome flies.

Malcolm smiled in satisfaction and ate another piece of chocolate gateau.


	4. Chapter 4

"Can I have a blanket? It's really cold," Malcolm asked. When Draco ignored him, preferring to concentrate on the letter he was writing by candlelight in his office, Malcolm knocked politely on the open door.

"Draco?"

Draco sighed heavily and pressed his palms against his eyelids until he could see bursts of color.

"Tibby."

There was a loud popping noise and Malcolm let out a yelp of surprise.

"Give the Muggle a blanket so he will go away," Draco grimaced. Tibby bowed and there was another loud pop.

"Whoa, so that's how it, er, she does it. Bloody amazing, right?" Malcolm laughed. Draco dipped his quill into the ink again and bowed his head again to concentrate.

"What are you writing?"

"None. Of. Your. Business. If you step one foot into this room, I will curse your eyebrows off," Draco drawled.

"But I'm already in here. Right in the _middle_ of the room actually," Malcolm replied patiently. "This blanket just appeared out of nowhere, by the way. Is that a normal occurrence? Can I get a toothbrush like that too?"

Draco leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to find the auburn-haired nuisance clutching a blanket to his chest, staring down at him… with amusement?

"You're messing with me, aren't you?"

"You are _really_ uptight, you know," Malcolm said. Draco watched him pull up a chair to the desk and lean his elbow on the desk, studying him. Draco frowned.

"I am not uptight. I am a grown man with business to attend to, unlike _some_ people," he scowled. "The business of figuring out the stupid reason you could see the Leaky Couldron, as a matter of fact."

"So who are you writing to?"

"Flourish and Blots. It's a book store, before you ask. I may even be forced to speak with Granger tomorrow, thanks to you," Draco grimaced.

"If it's such a big deal, why the bloody hell are you even trying?" Malcolm asked.

Draco frowned but felt a bit unsure.

"It's because of my good looks, isn't it?" Malcolm asked.

"Get _out_."


	5. Chapter 5

Draco woke up early the next morning. He turned over to his side, wishing he could allow himself to sleep in. The bed was so warm and comfortable. He pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders and began to drift in the realm of blissful semi-awareness.

_There is a Muggle in my house_.

He ripped the covers off and stumbled sleepily to his feet with a groan. He wrapped his house robe around his shoulders and was about to go downstairs for breakfast when he heard strange growling noises.

Draco tilted his head to the side.

"Rawwrr! Grrr… Fear me!" he heard.

Was that coming from his personal bathroom? There was a trickle of steam seeping beneath the closed door and, as he tip-toed quietly toward the door, the growling noises grew ever stranger.

"I vant to suck your blad! I'm so scary, you know it baby."

Draco leaned his ear against the door.

"That's right. I'm stunning. But I'm a predator. GRAWR!"

Giggling. There was a grown man giggling in his bathroom. Draco pushed open the door and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

Malcolm was wrapped in one of his fluffy towels and had his face pressed up against the mirror. His hands were in the form of claws and he had his arms lifted over his head.

"What are you doing?" Draco finally found his voice.

Malcolm startled and whipped his head around. His face was covered in… sparkles. Glitter. Malcolm looked down at his bare chest, which also gleamed in the sunlight and then back to Draco.

"Is that my _hair gel_ on your… your _face_?"

"I'm a vampire. See?" Malcolm shrugged and then did the claw thing again toward Draco.

"No."

Malcolm looked disappointed.

"It's from that movie. You know what I'm talking about, right?" he asked and studied his reflection in the mirror again.

"No."

"Oh. Why does your hair gel sparkle?" Malcolm snorted and picked up the bottle gleefully.

"It… It makes my hair look shiny! You're not supposed to rub it all over yourself, you dimwit!" Draco snatched the bottle out of Malcolm's glittery hands and slammed the bathroom door shut.


	6. Chapter 6

Malcolm quietly took a seat at the dining room table wrapped casually in a robe he must have found in the linen closet, no longer glittering. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and reached for a piece of toast.

"You know, buddy… If you have a crush on me you could have just said something," Malcolm suddenly said. "I'm not sure I'm into this sort of thing."

Draco looked up from perusing the Daily Prophet. Malcolm was bound by the wrists to the chair, looking somewhat uncomfortable and made longing gestures with his fingers toward the piece of toast on his plate.

_Good. It worked._

"I have to run errands. I don't need you waltzing through the manor and getting into any more of my things while I'm away. I should only be a couple of hours," Draco drawled in satisfaction.

"I really pissed you off, didn't I?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows.

Draco ignored this and continued speaking.

"I have a few books coming by owl post today. I must stop by the Ministry to speak to Granger about this, ah, predicament and find out what she has to say. I'm sure the Know-It-All can give me some sort of lead as to how a Muggle could possibly stumble into Diagon Alley."

"Do you really think a book is going to tell you that?" Malcolm asked, shifting in the chair for a more comfortable position.

"Did you really think my hair gel would transform you into a vampire?" Draco replied coolly.

"No but I did look quite deadly. Not to mention charming, of course," Malcolm shrugged with difficulty.

"Well, I must be off. Try not to… tip over or anything," Draco smirked and took his leave.

Malcolm grimaced and tugged at the thin ropes to no avail.

"Hey! How am I going to eat my toast?!" he shouted after Draco.

Draco ignored him, smiling for the first time in months, and stepped into the fireplace.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco swallowed what little pride he had left and knocked on a door marked **H. Granger** and crossed his arms over his chest, looking furtively over his shoulder. Not one person lifted their heads to stare at him as memos zoomed around the room.

"I don't have _time_, Ronald!" he heard her voice as she opened the door. Her bushy hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and she was struck temporarily mute when she saw who was standing outside her office door.

"Malfoy?" she asked. Her voice was pleasant but the surprise and confusion her face rendered everything else null and void.

"Granger," Draco could feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck but he kept his nose up in the air.

"I thought you were Ron," she said hesitantly.

Draco waved his hands awkwardly in the air.

"Listen, Granger… I can't pretend we are friends. But I need to ask you something," Draco said, wishing he could bash his head against the wall in desperation. He couldn't _believe_ he was actually speaking to Granger.

_We are both adults. Suck it up!_

"Go on," she nodded slowly. Just a few short years ago she had been the one to slap him across the face- one of the more humiliating moments of Draco's Hogwarts years… besides the ferret incident.

"Have you ever come across anything, in a book or, _something_- that would explain how a Muggle could get into the Leaky Cauldron?" he whispered, checking back over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening.

Hermione gave him the squinty eye.

"Malfoy… Is this about what happened yesterday in Diagon Alley? It's all in the papers," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Her voice grated on Draco's ears.

_As if I don't know that. Bugger this._

"Never mind, Granger," Draco sighed and began walking off.

"They never found the Muggle you know," Hermione said. "Although I do have objections to calling him that. After all, Muggles can't see the Leaky Cauldron. But Squibs can."

There was a small moment of dawning comprehension. Draco turned around to face her. She crossed her arms and looked at him as if she could see into his thoughts.

"Thanks," Draco said quietly and marched smartly through the Magical Law Enforcement headquarters to the lift.

Hermione watched him leave and then slipped quietly back into her office.

_I don't even want to know_.


	8. Chapter 8

A little while later, Malcolm was free. He dropped the butter knife and it clattered to the floor. He pulled himself upright and massaged his aching wrists. The ropes, which had seemingly sprouted from the chair itself lay in frayed tatters on the floor.

He stumbled to his feet and looked around.

"Hello beautiful," he muttered and bit into the piece of toast. He ate a few more bites, took a swig of orange juice and dusted off the rope fragments from the bathrobe.

-(A few hours later)-

"…WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S SAGGY LEFT TESTICLE-"

Malcolm shoved all the hand-written letters and newspaper clippings back into the drawer of Draco's desk as quickly as he could.

"Malcolm! Where the BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?!" Draco shouted. The walls upstairs reverberated with the sound of his shouting. Malcolm was surprised to hear how high pitched he sounded when he was enraged.

He sped out of Draco's office and ran to meet him downstairs before he found him snooping.

"What?!" Draco sputtered. Malcolm would have been tempted to laugh at the visage of disheveled rage glaring up at him except for the fact that Draco looks sorely tempted to use his stick weapon to knock his lights out.

Malcolm raised his hands up in surrender.

"I can explain-"

"_ARE YOU WEARING MY CLOTHES_!"

Malcolm looked down at the collared white shirt and green vest he was sporting. It _was_ a bit too small for him, he could give Draco that.

"Oh… yeah. That. I can explain that too. It's quite simple really-"

"Why did you… what have you… HOW?!" Draco demanded. He looked like he had been knocked in the head with a brick as befuddlement began to replace the spitting rage.

"I sawed my way out of the bindings with a butter knife because I don't have a wand… yet. And then I found your closet. My god, man, this place is chilly. What else did you expect? A man to wander around barefoot in a bathrobe?" Malcolm asked. "No thank you. You should treat your guests better, I'll say."

"_You're stretching out the fabric!"_

"I'm not _fat_," Malcolm frowned.

Draco made a complicated movement with his wand. Malcolm reacted by shielding his head with his arms and leapt backward. He realized after blinking rapidly for a few seconds that the clothes weren't as tight and he wasn't covered in oozing pustules.

He peeked over his arms to see Draco standing in the foyer, shoulders slumped and running a frustrated hand through his disheveled white-blonde hair.

"So… are we cool?" Malcolm ventured carefully.

"Refrain from speaking to me for a few minutes," Draco glowered and stalked up the stairs, refusing to look at Malcolm.

"And _don't_ touch anything!"

A door slammed.

"I'm not sure you truly appreciate my ingenuity!" Malcolm called after him.

"SHUT UP!"


	9. Chapter 9

For some reason, Malcolm's singing didn't bother Draco as much as he thought it would when he first heard the lyrics echoing from one of the downstairs rooms. He had his bedroom door shut and he sat cross-legged on top of the pillows with a book, entitled _A History of Magical London_, opened on his lap.

"_The Leaky Cauldron, built in 1500 by the original land owner Daisy Dodderidge, stands guard between Diagon Alley and the London muggle population. Only those witches and wizards can enter The Leaky Cauldron, which is hidden from view from non-magical folk in the form of a dirty old shop."_

Draco sighed and tossed the book to the side. He was having a tough time finding any references to Squibs in any of the books he had received by owl post. It was apparent, due to lack of references, that Squibs were overlooked in general by wizards and witches… which would count the first time in his life that Draco was actually aggravated by the fact.

"What a load of rubbish," Draco growled and kicked the book to his floor in a miniature fit.

"I tried to tell that to my teacher when I was little but then she made me read Charles Dickens in front of the entire class for a week straight. Said it would do me some good… though I haven't seen any results. I think she might have been full of crap."

Draco wasn't in the least surprised to see Malcolm leaning through the bedroom door with his hand on the knob.

"Don't you ever knock?" Draco grumbled and leaned his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

"Did you pull that stick out of your arse yet? Ah, I guess the answer to both of those questions is a resounding no," Malcolm said and settled on the edge of Draco's bed.

If he was expecting a reaction, Draco didn't give it to him- preferring instead to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"You're a Squib."

"You're a bad tempered horse's ass."

Draco opened one eye and frowned.

"What?" Malcolm asked.

Draco sat up and pointed at Malcolm.

"You're a Squib. It explains how you can see the Leaky Cauldron. Your ignorance of magic, because you were raised in the Muggle world, is what caused the Aurors to chase after you. They must have thought you were a Muggle and, since they didn't get a chance to interrogate you, that's the impression everyone else has now as well."

"What's a Squib?"

"A Squib is someone born to magical parents without an ounce of magical blood in their veins. It's like a birth defect. But because you're a Squib you exist between the Magical world and the Muggle world," Draco explained calmly. He thought he might have wasted all of his rage on Malcolm's escape tactics earlier and felt… drained.

"That's why you could see the Leaky Cauldron."

Malcolm looked at him with a disbelieving grin.

"No way. Impossible. My parents aren't magical at all. I mean, if I'm a Squib, that would mean that Mum and Dad aren't my real paren-"

Draco actually managed to feel somewhat bad as a look of dawning horror shadowed Malcolm's face.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Dear Mum (maybe),_**

**_Ignore the owl in your house. It's just waiting for your reply. I promised I would give it a treat if it comes back with a response, so please don't swat at it with a sauce pan or anything. I would have sent this letter through normal post but apparently Londoners are quirky and like owls __loads__ more than the postman. It's a new fad. Don't ask me to explain it. _**

**_I have a question- which is why I'm writing. Am I Dad's little squirt? And by that, I mean am I yours and Dad's biological child? I won't be angry or anything if I'm not. Honestly, it might even be a relief to find out that I'm not related in ANY way to Auntie Martha or her brood of blood sucking leeches. Or Grandpa, in retrospect. You know what I'm talking about. No offense to Dad's side of the family or anything._**

**_In other news, I'm having a great time in London. I made a new friend. He saved my life. I still might end up going to prison though. But don't worry, I'm not allowed to leave the house or wander around in public so I'm pretty sure I'm safe for now. Be sure to give Dad (probably not) my best._**

**_Lots of love,_**

**_Your son (unlikely) Malcolm_**


	11. Chapter 11

"Mum hates birds," Malcolm said off-handed as he watched the owl disappear into the horizon. He had not yet had the chance to fully appreciate the soothing and beautiful landscape of the Malfoy property. Gently sloping hills and an interesting-looking garden surrounded the manor. A peacock (a peacock!) flashed its pure white tail feathers beneath the noon-day sun. He leaned his elbows against the window sill and took in a deep refreshing breath, letting the sun hit his face.

"You sent my owl to a _woman who hates birds_. Wonderful," Draco sighed.

"Don't worry old chap. I'm sure the owl will be fine. Probably," he added, raising his eyebrows apologetically.

"Never mind. It can't be that bad," Draco said.

"Well actually it _could_ be bad. Dad's been teaching Mum to use a pea-shooter. I just hope they haven't progressed to shot guns these past few days. She's pretty gung-ho when she sets her mind to it."

"_You can't possibly be serious_!"

"Now you're catching on," Malcolm winked at Draco.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Malcolm.

"I get it. You're Fred come back from the dead seeking revenge- hoping I'll keel over. Murdered by stress, that's what my tombstone will read," Draco cocked his head to the side and studied Malcolm with interest for, quite possibly, the first time.

"Well, that's dramatic. Don't you think?"

_He does remind me of someone. He's got a decent face and he's just as tall as I am. Brown eyes, auburn hair… his nose even looks familiar. _

"You okay, buddy? I know I'm a dashing young bloke but it's rude to ogle," Malcolm teased him, flashing a crooked smile, "If you stare at me like that any longer, I'm going to be forced to charge you by the hour."

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"You just look really familiar all of a sudden. Don't ask me why."

"Why can't I ask you why?"

"I just said 'don't ask me why', didn't I?"

"But I _didn't_ ask you why… I only asked you _why_ I can't ask you why," Malcolm argued. "There's a difference."

"Oh come off it! You are so… so…"

"Brilliant. I know. Are you starving? I could eat a house elf," Malcolm laughed.

"Ew."

"I didn't mean it like _that_."


	12. Chapter 12

"I can tell I'm already starting to grow on you," Malcolm commented as they sat at the table. Malcolm had chosen a different spot, choosing to sit closer to the head of the table than he had last time.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Like a second head, maybe. Useless, annoying and generally painful when knocked together," he smiled grimly.

"Ah, but having a second head is _interesting_. Your friends must be entirely too boring," Malcolm responded. "I've yet to see one stop by to visit and shoot the breeze with you."

"I don't have friends. I don't need them," Draco told him and shrugged, cutting off a piece of ham for his fork.

"Most people who say that are the ones who need friends the most, don't you think?"

"That's such an… innocent comment. And for your information, my friends are dead," Draco admitted, clearing his throat.

"Poor excuse for friends, dead people are," Malcolm muttered and took a swig of Firewhisky.

Draco narrowed his eyes, watching Malcolm in disapproval.

"I'm the _reason_ one of them is dead. The other one went and accidently blew himself up because he used the wrong spell to light his fireplace," he told Malcolm.

There was a moment of silence.

"I thought the Sir Dark Lord mess was the reason you're such a downer. I mean, yeah, it probably sucks too that your Dad is locked up in Alakazam," Malcolm replied.

Draco was flabbergasted.

"_Azkaban. _How do you know that?"

"…I might or might not have accidently fallen face-first into your private desk drawer?"

"That drawer is locked."

"Not if you know how to pick it."

"_Unbelievable_."

"I mean, you'd think snooping in a wizard's house would be much more difficult because of all the magical shenanigans but it's actually quite simple to break into stuff if you're into the physical work."

"I'm not into the physical work-"

"Thus, I know your entire life history. Moving on now," Malcolm changed the course of the conversation.

"You feel guilty for what happened when you were, what, sixteen? Seventeen? Right, so you and Daddy dearest were in cahoots with the Death Munchers-"

"_Eaters."_

"Whatever. Bad people. Then Dark Lord of the Slytherings decided to mess with the wrong asshole and here you sit in this big empty place thinking of ways to off yourself all day because you finally figured out you were led astray the whole time."

Draco was sitting back in his chair, gripping the arms until his knuckles were white with his jaw hanging open.

"I… You shouldn't have…"

Malcolm raised his eyebrow.

"I also forgive you, you know. Everything that happened… well, you were young and stupid and all that stuff you keep blaming yourself for would have happened with or without you there. My god, man, you were a kid. Hell, I wouldn't be sitting at this ginormous beast of a table if you were really a bad guy. Stuffy, maybe. But not _bad_."

Draco's voice was faint.

"I've _never_ contemplated suicide-"

Malcolm waved his arm out across his food dismissively.

"I must have looked into it too much. But _I_ would if I were stuck here with _me_. Kill myself, I mean. I'm terribly annoying."

For the first time in years, laughter (somewhat weak but laughter nonetheless) escaped Draco's throat.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you mental?" Malcolm eyeballed Draco. He was lounging on the rug in front of the fireplace and Draco was next to him. Both of their legs were stretched out and they had their hands behind their heads, leaning their backs against the couch.

Draco scoffed.

"I should ask the same of you! Who in their right mind _doesn't_ believe werewolves exist?" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "My ex- Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a werewolf. Professor Lupin. My old Potions Master used to brew the Wolfsbane potion every month for him so he wouldn't go psycho on us students or something."

Malcolm snorted.

"You're pulling my leg. I refuse to believe that your teacher was a werewolf. That's so dumb," Malcolm laughed and punched Draco softly in the shoulder. Draco frowned and rubbed the spot gingerly, as if unsure of whether the contact hurt or not.

"But you can believe I'm a wizard? Here, I'll show you werewolves exist. _Accio Care of Magial Creatures Textbook_!" he said and then placed the wand carefully back into his lap.

A book came zooming toward them… except there was no cover on it. Draco reached out and caught it.

"This book used to bite. I removed the offending binding. Long story," he rolled his eyes and buried his nose in the pages, turning them rapidly.

Malcolm was mesmerized by the way his icy grey eyes moved rapidly back and forth in concentration. His blonde eyebrows were slightly furrowed but… good lord, his eyelashes were black as night. It was different. Intriguing.

"There! See?! Now call me a liar," Draco suddenly lunged, shoving the book into Malcolm's face. The pages touched his nose and his eyes crossed.

Malcolm used one finger to push the book away from his face to a distance he could actually read it. Draco held the Care of Magical Creatures book up, borderline giddy that he could prove Malcolm wrong about werewolves.

It took a few seconds for Malcolm to actually concentrate on the page and absorb the words into his brain.

"_A werewolf is a human being who, upon the complete rising of the full moon, becomes a fearsome and deadly near-wolf. Werewolves can be easily distinguished from regular wolves by their shorter snout, more human-like eyes, the tufted tail, and their mindless hunting of humans whilst in wolf form. _

_A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite will seal the wound and allow the victim to live on as a werewolf, although tragic tales are told of witches and wizards begging for death rather than becoming werewolves. The Wolfsbane Potion, invented by Damocles, allows the werewolf to keep their human mind during transformation."_

It was the moving depiction of a werewolf transformation accompanying the blurb of text that instantly sent horrified shivers down Malcolm's spine. He shot to his feet, snatching the book out of Draco's triumphant hands and backed against the far wall next to the fireplace.

"They… they're _real_," he whispered. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the illustration in the book. The hair on his arms stood up in horror.

Draco watched his reaction in fascination, looking somewhat horrified himself… He didn't intend on actually _scaring_ Malcolm.


	14. Chapter 14

"Oh my god! _It's a unicorn_!" Malcolm screamed delightedly, snatching the book out of Draco's hand.

_I hope this makes up for the werewolf thing. Now there's a twenty three year old man in my living room squealing like a little girl over a stupid unicorn._

Draco didn't know whether to roll his eyes or laugh. He settled on a combination of both, which ended making him look like he was having a small seizure. He'd have to work on that.

Malcolm kept looking down at the pictures in the book and then throwing his head back to laugh. If Draco didn't know any better, he would have thought the man was slightly insane… well, he wouldn't rule out that possibility just yet.

"There are trolls and goblins also-"

"_UNICORNS EXIST! AHAHAHAHA!"_

Draco took a seat on the couch to wait for Malcolm's explosion of glee to subside. He couldn't imagine growing up and not knowing all about creatures like unicorns, mermaids, valcores or even gulping plimpies. He thought about how boring Malcolm's childhood must have been growing up as a Muggle and figured the man's borderline ridiculous behavior and sense of humor might have developed out of necessity.

Suddenly Malcolm took a deep breath and Draco thought he was going to start another round of laughing, but instead he plopped back down on the couch and focused entirely sober brown eyes on Draco's face.

"I'm done," he announced. "What else?"

"There are also ghouls, red caps, nifflers, and jarveys," Draco replied, counting them off on his fingers. "As a matter of fact, there is a jarvey in the garden… but I don't recommend-"

He was hauled unceremoniously to his feet before he could finish explaining why he didn't recommend showing Malcolm a jarvey.

"Show me. Now."

Draco opened his mouth to refuse but then thought better of it.

"Fine. But only because you deserve it."

Malcolm skipped on the balls of his feet and followed Draco through the house and then the back entrance.

Malcolm and Draco pushed their way around a few over grown hedges. Draco looked around furtively for the creature.

"So, what's a jarvey?" Malcolm finally thought to ask. Draco lifted the drooping limbs of a willow tree and pointed at Malcolm to take a peek.

"The fuck you lookin' at, tosspot?"

The jarvey, a rather large looking ferret, sat up on its hind legs and snarled.

"I love him. Can we keep it in the house?" Malcolm gazed adoringly at the jarvey… which then called him a worthless bag of beaver dung and peed on his shoe.

"Maybe not," Malcolm frowned.

"You deserved it," Draco smiled. "Remember to take those off before you step one foot inside my house."


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, Draco groaned and rolled out of bed. He had stayed up all night telling Malcolm all about the different magical creatures that _did_ indeed exist. He tried explaining the Ministry of Magic to the Squib, but all he had gleaned from the conversation was the fact that there was a Department of Magical Games and Sports- which had lead into an extremely long discussion about Quidditch. It was the reason Draco had forgotten to eat dinner and found himself stumbling upstairs to his bed at three o'clock in the morning. And now he had slept in until noon, not feeling entirely rested considering he had consumed a good portion of Ogden's Firewhiskey during the rousing discussion. His throat still felt raw from talking so much… and he was pretty sure he was still slightly drunk.

He had never felt so great in his entire life.

He even chuckled a little bit remembering Malcolm straddling his Nimbus 2000 and commanding the broomstick in a boisterously intoxicated manner to "get your bitch ass off the ground" and tripping magnificently over an end-table. Of course, the Nimbus didn't recognize him since he wasn't a wizard. There had been no flying, of course. Draco wasn't stupid.

"Ouch," he grumbled and clutched the sides of his head. It felt three times its normal size. He shuffled to his bathroom and shut the door, hoping he didn't puke before he took an anti-dote.

-(A Few Minutes Later)-

#

#

#

Draco nudged Malcolm awake.

"Kill me," was the response and Malcolm made a whining noise. He grumbled and covered his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the living room window.

"Here, sit up. Drink this," Draco said quietly.

"Noooo."

"It will make you feel better, I swear it. It's a _magic_ potion," he told him. He knew the word would bring Malcolm around.

"I can't see anything. I think my eyes are swollen shut," Malcolm whimpered. He sat up with Draco's help and Draco tipped the remaining contents of the vial into his mouth. Malcolm swallowed it with difficulty and sank pathetically back into the couch cushions.

Draco waited as a complete transformation occurred in front of him.

"Wow. That really works," Malcolm commented when his eyes flew open.

"Why are there stick figure drawings pasted over all of the portraits in my house?"

"Oh. That had to have been after you went to sleep. I thought I dreamed that," Malcolm said and both of them looked up at, well, what _used_ to be a classy portrait of Abraxas Malfoy hanging above the fireplace.

"What am I riding?" Draco asked, intrigued.

"A velociraptor," said Malcolm.

"My mistake. I thought it was a bear."

"I can't _believe_ I didn't think of that!" Malcolm lamented.

"You got the saddle pretty good though. And the cape."

"Thanks. Can we have eggs for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Oh, why not?" Draco shrugged and pulled Malcolm to his feet.

The blanket dropped.

"…Do I want to know why you're naked?"

"Probably not."


	16. Chapter 16

"You know," Draco said as he put down his quill, "Crabbe and Goyle were boring."

Malcolm lounged on the floor next to Draco's desk thumbing through another book he had found on the shelf titled _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

"Is that a disease?" Malcolm asked.

"Erm-"

"Oh. Dead friends. Right. Didn't they ever do anything fun? I dunno, like get smashed with you and philosophize about the Quidditch World Cup?" Malcolm asked and laid the book down on his chest, eyebrows raised.

Draco shrugged.

"No, not really. They weren't very intelligent. Usually their idea of fun was pummeling first year students and following me around. Before I was sent to Hogwarts, it was deemed that they would be my friends while I was there-"

"WHAT!"

Malcolm sat up and the book fell into his lap. His eyes were wide and he snorted derisively.

"It was best that-"

"Your friendships were _pre-planned_? You mean you didn't choose them? Who was the mastermind behind _that_?" Malcolm asked. He was actually disgusted and his face was scrunched up in disapproval.

Draco scowled at Malcolm.

"My _father_, actually. It was a preventive measure to ensure that I wouldn't make the mistake of befriending unsatisfactory persons. I assure you, it's a normal practice for pureblood families. My father and their fathers knew it would be best since we were in the same year. It was done to take the stress off me floundering my way around trying to make friends… so I could focus on my school work, obviously," he explained.

Malcolm frowned.

"That makes no sense. Who cares if you became friends with 'unsatisfactory people'? It's _your_ life. If they turned out to be rotten friends, you could have found other ones! I mean seriously! I've known you for three days and I'm probably a better friend than you've had in your entire life from what it sounds like," he laughed and fell back to the floor with a plunk and kicked Draco's chair.

"You're a Squib, though," Draco reminded him but he sounded a little unsure of his own words like they confused him.

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"Pah! So? I'm freaking awesome. I'm the _coolest_ Squib, that's what you mean to say. I'm _the_ Squib, Protector Of All That Is Amazing and Ridiculous, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"You think too highly of yourself," Draco grumbled and picked up his quill again to finish his letter to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic.

"Says the guy whose hair gel sparkles."

"Watch it."

"Admit it. I'd make a beautiful albeit deadly vampire."

"I swear to Merlin's under pants, if you ever play with my hair gel again, I will have you committed."

"So sweet of you."


	17. Chapter 17

"Say it."

Draco swatted at Malcolm, who ducked and grinned.

"I'm not saying it!" Draco yelled.

"Repeat after me: 'You are my best friend ever, Malcolm Jackson.' Come on, say it!" Malcolm goaded him, blocking the office door so Draco couldn't get past him.

"Absolutely not," Draco refused. He took another swipe which ended up being unsuccessful.

"If you say those magic words I will allow you to pass," Malcolm offered with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Draco lifted his wand threateningly.

"If you don't get out of my way, I'm going to blast you into outer space," he growled.

Malcolm lifted his hands up and stepped reluctantly to the side.

"Spoil sport," he said at Draco's back as the two climbed down the stairs.

Draco tried to keep his face impassive but it was difficult to conceal his amusement at the sudden image of Malcolm floating around in outer space with a befuddled expression on his face.

"You're going to laugh. I can see it! Do it! I'm good for you, you know!" Malcolm shouted gleefully when he saw Draco's shoulders twitch.

Draco did laugh. Malcolm, beaming with success, pumped his fist in the air with a dramatic hoot and rode the banister down to the ground floor backward, tumbling dramatically to the floor. Draco stepped over him and smirked.

"How did you even survive childhood? Honestly. You're the clumsiest person I've ever met," Draco muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Malcolm followed him with his eyes and smiled upside down.

"You mean the clumsiest _friend_ you've ever met," he corrected him.

"Ack! Fine! You're my friend. Are you happy?" Draco relented. He felt a blush beginning to creep up the back of his neck and he didn't understand why. He figured it had something to do with admitting that he had developed a soft spot for this Squib, who was at the moment climbing to his feet and running his hands through his messy auburn hair with a goofy smile on his face.

"Do you want to know why I want to be your friend?" Malcolm asked. He brushed off the pair of pants Draco had lent him (and resized so as not to stretch the fabric) and stood in front of him with his hands shoved casually in his pockets.

Draco froze. The idea that someone wanted to be _his_ friend and was willing to _admit it_ caught him off guard. For whatever reason it had never occurred to him as much as Malcolm followed him around, that Malcolm _wanted_ to be friends… until now.

"It's because you're actually quite fun when you want to be. You know, when you let loose."

It was such a bald statement. Draco swallowed, embarrassed.

"Are you blushing?" Malcolm asked suddenly serious.

Draco cleared his throat and backed away.

"It happens all the time. Don't look too much into it," he mumbled and turned away.

"THAT'S SO ADORABLE! You are actually blushing! Ahaha!" Malcolm suddenly shouted, sounding absolutely delighted by the fact.

Draco made a face of disgust.

"Friends don't call other friends 'adorable', you nitwit! Merlin's beard, you are the weirdest person in the entire world!" he huffed and marched into the next room, cheeks smarting.

"You like it! You already admitted that you want to make babies with me!"

"_Did not_!"

"Friendship and making babies are practically the same thing!"

"No they are _not_!"

"Now you're just being technical!"

"Stop shouting at me! I'm in the next room, just come in here! Jesus Christ…."

"Okay! I'm on my way!"

"Now you're just being an arse!"


	18. Chapter 18

That evening, Draco's owl arrived with a letter from Malcolm's mother. The owl nipped Malcolm's finger rather angrily.

"Ouch! Little beast," Malcolm muttered and sucked on his thumb, yanking the letter off the owl's foot.

"Oh look! Mum wrote me back, see?" he said and opened the letter. Draco leaned across the table to read it as well.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Dear Son,**_

_**I'm sure you thought it was cute to send a letter by owl. Don't do that again. It landed in Daddy's porridge and he had a fit. And by 'he' I mean that I nearly shot it with my new shotgun, which, incidentally, is an illegal weapon in this country. I'm sure you don't want your delicate Mum to go to jail any time soon. You understand. The neighbors can't keep their bleeding mouths shut, can they?**_

_**Grandpa says hello. And by 'hello' I mean that he took out his teeth and showed off his wrinkly buttocks to the neighbors. Honestly he's too far gone to understand much of anything but I thought writing it sounded pleasant. Didn't it?**_

_**I also **__**distinctly**__** remember sending you to the market for bread and peas this past Wednesday. I didn't mean that you should take an impromptu journey to London. That's somewhat out of the way, dear. But since you're there, if you happen to pass by the Prime Minister, be a doll and give him the finger for me will you?**_

_**No. You are not Daddy's little squirt. We were going to tell you when you were young but we were under the impression that you already figured it out… Really, Malcolm? **__**We are midgets. You are not.**__** You could lift Daddy above your head when you were six years old, which you did often much to his chagrin. I always told him that the ceilings in the house were too low. Now I'm wondering if you bumped your head too many times on the door frames. Mummy is **__**so**__** sorry, darling.**_

_**But I suppose it can't hurt now to tell you about the time we adopted you. It was in the spring of 1982 and you were such a small baby. Daddy and I could even hold you then. All we know is what the orphanage had on record. Your birth mother gave you up and told someone at the orphanage that your birth father was dead. She would only give her first name, Amelia. But she did give the name of your birth father. His name was Fabian Prewett. Well, Daddy and I searched his name but we could never find anything about him. And, of course, we raised you as our own. I hope you don't mind.**_

_**Also, be sure to let me know which prison you end up in so I can send a care package. You won't be incarcerated for very long, will you? Unless, as I hope, you ran over the Prime Minister in a taxi cab. I might even send you your favorite dessert that you can share with your new husbands in your cell. Blueberry pie or chocolate cake? I can even bake both if that's the case.**_

_**We love you very much,**_

_**Mum**_

_**P.S.- Grandpa did say hello just now but he was talking to the telly. I'm not entirely sure if that counts. Only thought I'd mention it just in case.**_


	20. Chapter 20

Draco mouthed the word "shotgun" looking murderous. He reached out to pet his owl consolingly.

"It was supposed to be a joke… I didn't know Dad would actually go out and buy Mum a shotgun," he said apologetically. Draco took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

They continued reading.

"You mean to tell me that your parents are midgets… and you had no idea you were adopted?" Draco groaned.

"Hey! It could happen," Malcolm said defensively, looking sheepish. "Plus, I think I look very much like the both of them. Here," he dug into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He thrust a photograph into Draco's hands for evidence.

Draco's eyes narrowed and then he jerked his head up in disbelief.

"They look nothing like… you look nothing like… They are two feet tall, for Merlin's sake! Malcolm, they look like potatoes!"

"They don't look like POTATOES!" Malcolm admonished him looking suddenly murderous himself but Draco didn't notice.

"I'm sure they get that all the time. Calm down," he said soothingly and patted Malcolm on the head. Then he held the photograph up again.

His grey eyes widened.

"Is that a naked old man hiding in the bushes?"

"That's just Grandpa. He's senile. Give that back!" Malcolm snatched the photo out of his hand and shoved it back into his wallet.

"Why doesn't your picture move like a normal photo?" Draco asked in wonder.

Malcolm grumbled something that sounded more or less like "Ought to shove a potato up your bum, that'd show you."

They both went back to reading the letter.

"Fabian Prewett, that's an interesting name-"

Malcolm jumped when Draco violently exited his seat. His chair fell to the floor with a clatter and he had a horrified look on his face.

"What?"

Draco was studying him with such an expression of terror and confusion it actually caused Malcolm's heart to shoot into his throat.

"No. No no no no," Draco repeated over and over, still staring at Malcolm. "No. Oh, no."

Draco's face scrunched up in an unidentifiable expression and he backed slowly out of the room. Malcolm stood up, which seemed to cause Draco physical pain. Draco's hands began to shake and he clutched at his own shirt.

"Draco?"

"NO. No no no."

Draco suddenly ran from the room and Malcolm took off after him, throwing his mum's letter to the ground in pursuit.

"What is with you? What are you going on about?"

Draco stood on his toes, reading the spines of several very old volumes in his personal library. Then he began pulling them rapidly from the shelves, letting them fall with thumps to the floor. Dust rose from the covers and Malcolm stepped back, covering his nostrils with his sleeves as his eyes began to water.

"Prewett. You _can't_ be. I'm wrong. I've _got_ to be wrong," Draco mumbled frantically to himself.

Draco finally got his hands on a massive book and wrenched it from the shelf in a fury of dust. He slammed it on the table and pulled the cover open.

_Wizarding Genealogy for the Pureblood Family_ shimmered in silver ink on the title page. Malcolm peered over Draco's shoulder with interest.

"P's. I need the P's. Prewitt. Prewitt!" Draco shouted and bent over, close enough so that his nose nearly rubbed against the ink.

"Am I famous or something? That would be cool," Malcolm commented.

"I could be related to you," Draco said in a horrified voice. "Shut up so I can concentrate!"

"Oh. That's awkward."

"Why do _you_ think that's awkward?"

"Obviously because you want to play Quidditch with my private parts."

"Can you _please_ shut up for literally ten seconds? For once?"

Malcolm closed his mouth.

"Lucretia Black… well at least we are only related by marriage," Draco said quickly still scanning the volume at a high frequency, flipping pages rapidly.

"Well _I'd_ say it's okay if we play Quidditch later then."

"_Please shut up_. I'm still looking for Fabian," Draco reminded him through gritted teeth.

Malcolm leaned over his shoulder a little further and stuck his finger in the far corner.

"He's right there. Why is his name crossed out like that?" Malcolm asked.

Draco looked at where he was pointing and went extremely pale, much more so than he already was.

"Oh look! I have an aunt named Molly. Wow, that would make all of those children under her name my cousins, wouldn't it? …Draco?"

Draco had backed away from the book gazing at Malcolm like he'd never see him before… in a bad way. He pointed a shaking finger in Malcolm's face.

"All you need is freckles and bright orange hair," Draco whispered accusingly. "Your eyes, your nose, your _face. _You tricked me! You… you… You're a WEASLEY!"

"That's not nice," Malcolm frowned.

"I need a drink. Goodbye," Draco suddenly said and slammed the door shut.

"Thanks for leaving these books for me!" Malcolm called after him. He didn't receive an answer so he shrugged, pulled up a chair and began reading the names out loud.

"William… Charlie… Percy, that's a stupid name… Fred, oops. He's dead… George, ah he had a twin… Ronald… Ginevra, another silly name…. I have more cousins, how lovely!" he said happily to himself.


	21. Chapter 21

Malcolm flopped down on Draco's bed.

"Go away. I hate your guts," Draco slurred. Malcolm wrenched the bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky out of his hands and set it on the floor.

"No you don't. You just think you do. By the way, I am not a Weasley. I'm just related to them by blood," Malcolm said in what he thought was a soothing voice. Draco groaned and sank beneath the covers.

"Why are you in my room?" he mumbled, clenching his eyes shut.

"I thought we could have a slumber party. You know, like friends do. Also, it's really cold down stairs and I don't have a wand to light the fire yet. You can redeem your earlier outbursts by _totally_ not kicking me out. After all, you likened my parents to potatoes. It's the least you can do," Malcolm said and relaxed beside Draco's limp, grieving form.

"I'm sorry," was the muffled response.

"As you should be," Malcolm replied.

"I don't do slumber parties," Draco poked his head out from under the covers to eyeball Malcolm with suspicion. Malcolm shrugged.

"Lots of friends do it. Just because you've never had a slumber party doesn't mean should deprive _me_ of it, now can you?"

Draco grumbled something unintelligible and turned to his other side away from Malcolm.

"Fine," he said and hunkered down on the pillows. "Just don't touch me in any weird places. Thanks in advance."

Draco closed his eyes and waited for blissful sleep to overtake him. He didn't know what he was going to do in the morning… probably take another anti-dote if he felt like puking when he woke up.

"Is putting an arm around your belly considered a 'weird' place?" Malcolm asked quietly.

Draco's eyes flew open and he stared at the opposite wall, frozen.

"Is that what friends do during slumber parties?" he asked in a low voice, knowing better.

"…I'm sure it happens all the time."

"…I suppose it is okay then. Just be quiet and let me sleep."

"Sure."

Malcolm was warm and his arm was a heavy weight. Draco finally closed his eyes again after a few minutes of getting used to the feeling of someone else's chest rising and falling against his back.

_Definitely not a regular slumber party. I'm not stupid… and neither is he. This is not good. Or it could be good. What in the name of Merlin am I going to do about this?_

Draco fell asleep to the sound of Malcolm's breathing in his ear.


	22. Chapter 22

Malcolm woke up the next morning on his back with Draco sprawled half-way across his chest. His white blonde hair tickled Malcolm's chin but Malcolm refused to move, not daring to wake him up.

_Well, this is… different._

Draco was still sleeping peacefully and, thankfully, wasn't yelling at him for one stupid thing or another. In fact, he had somehow managed to pin down Malcolm's right arm which was starting to tingle from lack of circulation. He was going to have to move. Damn it.

He tried pulling his arm free inch by inch very slowly but Draco made a grumbling noise and shifted his entire body closer to Malcolm. Malcolm froze, not daring to breath until Draco stopped moving.

_He is so pale. How can someone be so pale and so nice to look at simultaneously? He's lovely. Pissy and stuck up… but lovely just the same. I have such weird taste. But this is alright. I'd rather amputate my arm right now. I wonder if that would be an option if I was a wizard. Strange thought, walking around with only three limbs. Would that hurt? Probably but it *might* not if I was a wizard. I'm sure it wouldn't even be that noticeable. I could probably just wear a long sleeve shirt and stuff the empty side with toilet paper or something. He's going to freak when he wakes up and realizes how cozy he got with me in his sleep._

Draco's head shot up as if on cue with Malcolm's train of thought. He blinked his eyes rapidly, staring down at, well, Malcolm's left nipple as if he had never seen one before.

"S'matter?" Malcolm asked him sleepily. He yanked his arm free and then used it to numbly prevent Draco from bouncing upward like a shot puppy if he chose to take that route.

But Draco only laid his head back down and closed his eyes once more.

"Good morning to you too," Malcolm mumbled.

"You lied t'me," Draco said quietly.

"What are you talking 'bout?"

"Friends don't do this stuff."

"Duh. But you already knew that. Can't feign ignorance with me 'cause I know you're not stupid."

"Why'd you say that stuff about friends then?"

"Because I am your friend. We really want to bone each other- but that's a minor coincidence."

Draco sat up and Malcolm followed suit, fully awake by this point and judging the entire scenario with a sharp eye. Draco hung his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes to get rid of the sleep.

"You're really thin. Don't worry though, it works for you."

"So is that what this is, then? Is this what it's all about?" Draco asked. He looked tired still, but now somewhat uneasy and unsure of himself. It made Malcolm feel bad for him.

"What do you think?" he asked Draco.

Draco didn't answer, still looking over at Malcolm with sleepy eyes. The circles were coming back like they always did when he was stressed. Malcolm took a gamble and snaked and arm around Draco's waist, pulling him closer.

"Come on, let's get some more sleep. Don't start worrying about this stuff now, please."

Draco nodded as if thankful for the suggestion and let himself be pulled back down. He already had his eyes closed again by the time Malcolm put an arm under Draco's head and slung the other arm around his waist.

"No weird places yet," Draco mumbled. Malcolm felt an urge to laugh but restrained himself.

"No weird places yet. Got it."


	23. Chapter 23

"I'm ready to go," Malcolm said when Draco reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't think so," Draco rolled his eyes and swept past him, adjusting the cloak over his shoulders. Malcolm spun around on the spot in another pair of Draco's clothes.

"Supersize me or these buttons are going to pop," Malcolm warned him. Draco groaned and stuck his wand over his shoulder. Instantly the clothes stretched to an appropriate size and Malcolm was able to breath properly again.

"You are not coming with me. It's the Ministry of Magic. And, if you recall, you were once at the mercy of Aurors who thought you were a Muggle. I don't need you getting tackled to the ground while I'm in audience with the Minister. Horrible impression," Draco dismissed him but Malcolm followed him to the fireplace in the living room.

"What are you going to talk to him about?" Malcolm asked, intrigued.

"I'm groveling for my father's release from prison if you must know. The last thing I need is to be cited for bringing a suspected Muggle into the Ministry of Magic," Draco said abruptly. He took a sprinkle of Floo Powder in his hand.

"Well I think it would be neat if I went along. I can clear my name with the Minister. Two birds with one stone," Malcolm pointed out.

"No," Draco said with finality and tossed the powder into the flames, which turned them bright green. He stepped into the fire and turned to face Malcolm, who had a determined look on his face.

"I said no! Back away!"

Quickly he spoke the words "Ministry of Magic"- but he watched helplessly as Malcolm dove into the fireplace in a split second and Draco instinctively reached for Malcolm's collar so the man wouldn't get thrown unceremoniously through someone else's fireplace and get lost.

_You tricky bastard_, he thought as Malcolm clung to Draco's cloak and yowled in terror as they shot past a multitude of open hearths and finally spat out into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Draco stumbled into the crowd. Normally his entrance was calm, collected and generally went unnoticed… but not this time. This time he was pulling Malcolm, still howling like a wounded dog, up by his collar and trying to catch his own balance at the same time.

"You oaf!" he yelled. His frustration was getting the better of him. Several Ministry wizards and witches scurried away from them and Draco took a deep breath to calm down. Malcolm was holding his stomach like he was going to puke spectacularly on the floor.

"I told you no, didn't I?" he demanded scathingly, wishing he could strangle the Squib but not daring to with so many curious eyes watching them. And to think… he had let this man sleep in his bed last night!

Malcolm's eyes were unfocused and he wavered on the spot with shaky legs. Draco grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him to the Fountain of Magical Brethren, forcing him to sit down on the edge. Slowly Malcolm came around, taking deep breaths and eventually picked his head up to gaze wonderingly around the Atrium and people stepping out of the fireplaces. Draco waited with strained patience (he knew he qualified for some sort of award for not shoving his shiny boot up Malcolm's rear end) when Malcolm finally blinked rapidly and looked up at Draco with joy.

"Can we do that again?"

Draco's shoulders slumped forward and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I am leaving you here. _Right here_. Do not move from _this spot_. Stay just as you are until I come back to get you or you will regret ever being born. Do you understand me?" Draco threatened.

"Sure thing," Malcolm said. He even had the decency to look slightly ashamed of himself.

Draco sighed and walked away.

"Put in the good word with the Minister for me, will you?" Malcolm called after him. Draco twitched and buried himself in the crowd in line to have their wands weighed for visiting at the front desk.


	24. Chapter 24

Malcolm tapped the man on the shoulder. He was shorter than he was but he turned around looked up expectantly. Malcolm gave him what he hoped was a charming smile.

"Who are you?" Malcolm asked.

The man looked around as if for clarification that indeed Malcolm was speaking to him. He seemed to steel himself for some sort of expected outcome.

"Harry Potter. Is there something I can help you with?" he asked. He instinctively tried to flatten his hair and resituated his glasses.

"Yeah actually. Do you work here? If so, do you know where I can find the Minister? I really need to talk to him," Malcolm asked.

"…Erm, okay. I'm head of the Auror Department. I… Well, I don't know where Kingsley is at the moment but I could pass a message along to him if I see him?" Harry replied extremely nonplussed.

"How lucky for me. You're head of the whacky magic policemen! Yes, please let this Kingsley fellow know I'm the guy your people were chasing down in Diagon Alley and I'm _actually_ a Squib so it would be _super awesome_ if he can grant me a pardon. I don't want to go to prison for existing, see? My name is Malcolm Jackson. Although if he's already spoken to Draco Malfoy, the matter will already have been taken care of and I apologize for the redundancy," Malcolm rattled off and shook Harry's hand like a gentleman.

"Sure thing, er… Mr. Jackson. Do you mind walking with me to my office? I can have the paperwork, er, drawn up," Harry replied, thinking fast.

"Well I'm not really supposed to be wandering about. Draco is going to be pissed if he sees I'm not sitting right where he-"

"Mr. Potter! There's a meeting at nine o'clock-" interrupted a round-faced little witch as she popped her head around the door.

"I'm going to be a bit late. Hold it for me, would you?" Harry asked, wincing.

She rolled her eyes.

"Of course," she grumbled and disappeared again.

"Sorry to be a bother," Malcolm apologized, peeking around the door way to see where she went.

"Don't worry about it. It's just some meeting about proper time management. It can wait," Harry shrugged and led Malcolm deeper into the bowels of the Ministry.

_Draco Malfoy? I'm definitely getting to the bottom of this…_


	25. Chapter 25

"What are those?" Malcolm asked, fascinated.

Harry looked up at the ceiling where he was pointing at the memos fluttering around their heads.

"Oh, er, those are interdepartmental memos. Those aren't important. Usually the important ones tap the recipient on the head until its read. I have paper cuts on my ears," Harry explained to him with a grim smile.

"So. Erm. Explain to me what happened again? You know, with the Aurors. I know something was mentioned about an incident with the Leaky Couldron," Harry prompted him and picked up a quill.

"Right. So I stopped in the pub for a drink and before I even got a chance to properly drown myself in a mug, chairs started flying and there was a lot of shouting. I ducked and ran but people were blocking the door so I figured I'd find a back way out. Well, there were some people standing by this garbage bin in the back and I was going to go past them until I saw the bricks fold back and I darted through and found myself being chased by your weirdo magic policemen through the street. Lovely people, no offense," Malcolm added.

"None taken," Harry said and shrugged.

"It was all a big misunderstanding. You see, Mr. Malfoy saved my life and took me out of Diagon Alley. We've since figured out that I'm _not_ a Muggle. I'm a Squib so I wasn't technically doing anything wrong by being in the Leaky Couldron. It's all very simple- I just so happened to be adopted. But my parents told me the name of my biological father- Fabian Prewett. I bet if you look him up you'll find that he's dead. Shame, it is. So if you'll just scratch my name off your list of rogue criminals that would be very helpful, thanks," Malcolm smiled pleasantly and his attention strayed upward to the swarm of memos circling his head.

Harry's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing beneath the fringe of black hair across his forehead.

"Cool scar. How'd you get that?"

"Can you repeat that for me?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

"I just said you have a cool scar-"

"No. I mean about your biological father," Harry said, leaning forward and taking a good look at Malcolm.

"Oh. Right. I sent a letter to my Mum and she said Fabian Prewett was the name this Amelia lady gave the orphanage when she left me there. I figure I was an ugly baby or that she was poor, what with my father being dead and all or… well, something along those lines," Malcolm shrugged a little bit.

"So you're telling me that you think Fabian Prewett is your father… and that Draco Malfoy has actually _allowed_ you room and board in the meantime while you figured this out?" Harry asked, green eyes flickering rapidly over Malcolm's face.

"You _do_ know Draco then? Pissy, isn't he? But he's not that bad. He's been helping me out. I don't want him to get in trouble for harboring a fugitive, since you know, I'm totally _not_ a terrorist," Malcolm answered.

Harry sat back in his chair and instinctively flattened his hair again.

"Do you mind if I take you to meet someone? His name is Arthur Weasley and he may be able to help confirm-"

"Cool! I can meet my Uncle? Does he work here too?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Er… Just come with me," he finally said.

"Good man. Do you have a comment card or something? You're extremely helpful," Malcolm smiled and let Harry lead him out of the office and down the hall again.

"Wait," he suddenly stopped, "Aren't you going to write out a pardon for this Minister Kingsley guy to sign?"

Harry reached up and pointed a finger at his own skull.

"It's all up here. It will be taken care of," he assured him and gestured for Malcolm to continue following him.


	26. Chapter 26

"Mr. Potter, the meeting has started-"

"Could you _please_ hold it for me? This is rather important," Harry told the secretary. She narrowed her eyes at Malcolm as if he had personally offended her.

She grumbled something about "Never on time" and Harry shrugged it off, directing Malcolm to the lift.

"Sunny disposition, that one," Malcolm commented sarcastically. Harry sighed in confirmation and pressed the button for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts level.

A few memos fluttered around the compartment and one started tapping Malcolm in the head. He swatted at it.

"_I don't work here. Get off it_," he muttered, frowning as the crumpled memo dejectedly joined its brethren again. Harry felt a smile tug at his lips.

"I remember when I didn't know magic existed," Harry said conversationally, looking at Malcolm swatting at memos out of the corner of his eye. "My parents are dead too. Died when I was a baby."

Malcolm looked over his shoulder with surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I lived with my Aunt and Uncle. They are Muggles," he told him.

"So you know what a television is, then. Thank _god_. Could you by chance persuade Draco to put one in his living room? I'm missing my soaps," Malcolm said forlornly. Harry grimaced and laughed at the same time.

"Malfoy and I aren't on the best of terms. I think he'd take light that suggestion on fire and try to curse me," Harry raised his eyebrow.

"He's funny that way," Malcolm smiled. Harry nodded, amused and somewhat confused.

"He, erm, is okay with you being a Squib?"

"Not in the slightest. It doesn't help that he nearly jumped out of the window when we found out I am related to the Weasleys. I'm pretty awesome though, so he lets me borrow his clothes and eat his food. He's probably making up for all of that Death Muncher business by letting me annoy him all day long. You know- community service," Malcolm told him.

The lift rattled to a stop. Harry was suddenly very quiet as they walked down the hall. Something made a rattling noise in an office to their left and several wizards rushed past with their robes on fire shouting about combustible ink pens.

"You know, the only reason I'm taking you to meet Mr. Weasley is because you do sort of resemble his family. You even look a little bit like Bill in the face. I know about Fabian Prewett, too. He was in the Order of the Phoenix back in the day when Voldemort was first rising to power. Thing is though, I'm not confident enough to tell you anything for sure about Fabian. Arthur will be the man to talk to. After all, Fabian was Mrs. Weasley's brother," Harry told in a subdued manner. "He's probably going to ask you a lot of questions just to be sure you aren't messing around. I might have to send you to Hermione to see if she can help you out with the research."

"Well I'm glad I bumped into _you_," Malcolm sighed thankfully.

Harry nodded and knocked on an office door labeled **A. Weasley**.

"Come in!" they both heard Arthur shout.

Harry opened the door and Arthur looked up from the piles of paperwork on his desk. He saw Harry and gave him a welcome smile. Then he caught sight of Malcolm hovering over Harry's shoulder and he shot upward, knocking papers to the floor. The chair hit the opposite wall with a crash, sending a cascade of broken watches and nails tumbling to the floor from the shelf above his lamp.

"Good Lord! _Fabian_!" he choked out and tripped on a skateboard, sending it flying across the room.

Harry and Malcolm looked at each other.

"I don't think we will have much of an issue with research," Harry said. Malcolm shook his head in agreement.


	27. Chapter 27

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath before walking into the Atrium.

"I swear to Merlin's knee-high socks, if he is not there…"

He opened his eyes and stared at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He blinked rapidly just to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

_Of __**course**__ he's not there. What was I thinking, that he'd actually stay put for two seconds? That's it. If he's gone and gotten himself arrested I'm going to cut off his feet. Malcolm the Footless Squib. Try jumping into fireplaces tomorrow- we'll see how that goes_, Draco thought ruefully, gritted his teeth and turned immediately on his heel to go back to the lift.


	28. Chapter 28

"Wow. You look just like Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon," Bill Weasley said in a low voice as he walked into Arthur's office. "I thought you were pulling my leg, Harry. I was only a kid but, unless I'm mistaken, we are looking at a ghost."

Arthur was nursing a bruise on his elbow but continued to circle Malcolm as if he had never seen anything like him before. Malcolm gently brushed Arthur's fingers off his face, which had begun to poke experimentally at his cheeks. Arthur ignored the brushing and lifted his bruised arm to poke Malcolm's forehead in wonderment.

"Extraordinary, isn't it Bill? I nearly had a heart attack," Arthur said calmly and prodded Malcolm's nose. Malcolm reached up and grabbed Arthur's fingers and removed them from his face, looking over at Bill and Harry for help.

"Mr. Weasley, do you really think he could be-" Harry asked, intrigued.

"That's a given," Bill answered for him.

"You have cool earrings. What happened to your face?" Malcolm asked Bill conversationally, finally grabbing Arthur's wrists and holding them together so the older man wouldn't feel a sudden need to poke him in the eye to see if that was real too.

"I was attacked by a werewolf in the Battle of Hogwarts," Bill answered him. Malcolm reached out slowly in awe and put his fingers on Bill's face in fascination and Bill calmly brushed his hand away.

"Really? That's awful. What kind of hogs?" Malcolm asked in awe. He reached out again to touch Bill's scars and Bill grabbed both of his wrists and held them together casually so Malcolm the Ghost of Uncle Fabian wouldn't feel a sudden need to poke him in the eye to see if that was scarred too.

"Er…"

"He's a Squib," Harry offered helpfully.

"Mum is going to have a fit," Bill said finally as Malcolm went back to struggling to keep his face clear of Arthur's poking and prodding hands.

"She deserves to meet him, don't you think?" Arthur asked.

Harry and Bill looked over at each other and nodded apprehensively.

"I suppose that'd be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?" Bill asked wearily. Arthur nodded and stood up on his tiptoes to peer into Malcolm's face. Malcolm arched his head backward in response, nose to nose with Arthur.

"I think we better go see Hermione first and see what she suggests," Harry said and both Weasley men sighed in a sort of relief.

"Yes, that'd be best. This way Fab- I mean, Malcolm," Arthur said and lead the troop out of his office back toward the lift.


	29. Chapter 29

"You really should have your name on your office door changed," Harry said as Hermione let them inside.

"Oh not you too," she said looking flustered. She snatched a memo out of her hair which had gotten caught in a tangle of bushy brown strands and opened it to read.

"Has Ron said anything about it?" Harry asked with a smile twitching on his lips.

She sighed and gave him a look that implied that, indeed, Ron had.

"Repeatedly. I told him that our Magical Maintenance crew is on strike again but he keeps bringing it up like it's my fault," she said.

Arthur and Bill gave each other a meaningful look and suddenly seemed to find the hundreds of memos flying about Hermione's office very interesting. Malcolm took a seat in a chair near the door.

"Didn't you inform them that they are underpaid?" Harry asked cautiously.

Hermione rounded on him.

"They _are_, Harry. It's not my fault. I wasn't going to lie to them. I've got more important things to worry about than my maiden name still written on my office door. Did you know that the Mermaid Coalition is suing the Goblin Liaison over diving for sunken treasure ships in their waters? I have been preparing for weeks for this case. He should be thankful I had time to show up at my own wedding."

Harry held up his hands.

"Forget I mentioned it. But we need your help," Harry said. Hermione finally noticed Malcolm sitting by the door and she gathered herself together.

"Who would you like to sue?" she asked Malcolm.

"The Queen of England," he replied without missing a beat. Hermione looked to Arthur and Bill who backed further away, staring at Hermione as if she would explode at any second.

"He isn't serious," Harry said quickly.

"I know. I'm just wondering if I've met you before. You look familiar. Aren't you related to the Weasleys?" she asked, a few notches calmer than she had been seconds before.

Malcolm stood up and shook her hand.

"I hate to be a bother, Mrs… er-"

"Hermione Weasley."

"Right. Well, long story short- I have just recently found out that I am a Squib and would like to know if there is any way to confirm that I am indeed related to this lovely Weasley clan. These boys here said you might be able to suggest a way for me to go about this before crashing the family Christmas party," Malcolm said.

Hermione looked him over, thinking hard.

"Does Draco Malfoy have anything to do with this?" she asked.

Malcolm smiled excitedly.

"Yes! He's my friend-"

"He came to my office a few days ago asking about the incident at the Leaky Couldron. Was that you?" she asked analytically. Harry, Bill and Arthur kept looking rapidly back and forth between them, stunned and confused.

Malcolm nodded.

"He's been helping me out. According to his big black book of magical racism, Molly Weasley could be my aunt. I can't say he was pleased when we figured it out. Is there any sort of birth record I could have a look at? My adoptive parents said the name of my biological father is Fabian Prewett but he was dead by the time I was given to the orphanage," he explained.

"Do you have the name of your biological mother?" she asked, in rapt attention. She didn't even swat at another memo that flew into the room and began circling her head.

"Amelia. That's the only thing the lady would tell the orphanage for their records."

Hermione began pacing around the room, thinking hard.

"Hm… I wonder if she could possibly have been Amelia Bones? She was in the Order of the Phoenix the first time, wasn't she? That would have been around the same time as Fabian," she said. "I can write a letter to St. Mungo's to see if they have any records of birth-"

"But Amelia Bones was never married, Hermione," Arthur finally spoke. "She couldn't possibly have had a child-"

Hermione interrupted him.

"A person doesn't have to be married to get pregnant, Mr. Weasley. It could have been a secretive affair. The Bones' are a pure-blood family. It is quite possible that she wanted to keep it quiet. You of all people should know that having a child out of wedlock, especially a Squib, would be considered shameful to a pureblood family like the Bones'. I know the Weasley's are different but we are talking about traditional ideas of lineage."

Arthur frowned and pushed his glasses further up his nose but he didn't say anything. Hermione continued pacing.

"Yes, the best thing to do would be to write to St. Mungo's. If Fabian didn't know or was deceased by the time Malcolm was born, Amelia couldn't have gotten married to him and she, quite possibly, would have felt forced to give him up for adoption rather than bring shame to her family," Hermione continued.

"But Amelia Bones was a great lady. She stood against those ancient ideals right beside the rest of the Order," Bill said quietly. "That doesn't make any sense."

Hermione sighed.

"Think about it, all of you. Say you are from a traditional pure blood family. People are dying left and right and you have an affair with another pureblood. He is killed by Death Eaters and then you find out you are pregnant with his child. You cannot get married to him obviously and then after the baby is born you find out he is a Squib. It is common for purebloods to perform magic on the child to find out the likely hood that their child will grow up to have magical abilities. If not, the child was customarily killed a few centuries ago… but in modern times the child is immediately given to Muggle care-givers or orphanages. It isn't talked about and kept secret. It is usually to keep the family name clear of any unsatisfactory offspring but she could have meant well by giving Malcolm a chance to live a normal life in the Muggle world rather than as a second-class Squib in ours. I'm not saying Amelia was a bad person, but she could have been heartbroken by Fabian's death and the pressure of being unmarried and raising his Squib child could have been too much of a burden for her in the aftermath of Voldemort's first rise to power," she concluded with an apologetic look in Malcolm's direction.

"She could have informed Molly! We would have raised him as one of our own," Arthur replied angrily.

"Yes, she could have. But old habits die hard and we don't even know for sure if she ever _had_ a child, much less if Malcolm is the result of any affair. That's why I say we should write to St. Mungo's," Hermione told him exasperatedly.

"Well this is fun. It's like a crime movie and we have to solve the case!" Malcolm said brightly. Harry was the only one who chuckled.


	30. Chapter 30

"I see you've made new friends," they all heard a low, icy voice say from Hermione's open office door. Malcolm whirled around to see Draco standing just outside the room with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him.

"I can explain this," Malcolm said immediately.

"I'm not in the mood for your explanation. I've been looking all over for you. We need to leave. _Now_," Draco demanded coolly, eyeing Harry, Hermione and the two Weasley men. Harry stiffened and took a step forward.

"You don't own him, Malfoy," Harry replied with bristling authority. Hermione grabbed the back of Harry's robes in warning.

Malcolm briskly inserted himself between the two men and held his hands out.

"Hey now, we are all friends here. Well, by extension maybe. Let's not transform each other into diseased pumpkins or whatever it is you kind of people like to do in your spare time," Malcolm pleaded. Harry snorted as he eyed Draco with mistrust. Draco returned the favor.

"I think our little session has ended," Hermione said. "Everyone should get back to work anyway, right Bill? Arthur? I will write to St. Mungo's for you, Malcolm."

Malcolm nodded gratefully and backed out of the door. Draco spun around and marched off in a bad temper to the lift.

"It was nice meeting you all!" Malcolm shouted over his shoulder as he hurried after Draco.

As both tall men took the lift back to the Atrium, Bill spoke.

"That's odd. Why is Lucius Malfoy's son hanging out with a Squib?"

Hermione shoed the out of her office.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" she asked and snatched at another memo in the process of getting tangled in her bushy hair.

"No," Harry said nonplussed. Arthur and Bill shook their heads.

"Boys. Honestly," Hermione sighed and shut the door in their faces.

"What does she mean?" Bill asked.

Harry shrugged.

"I've been friends with Hermione for years. She's brilliant but sometimes I still haven't got a clue," he said. They all walked back to the lift together. Harry realized with an uncomfortable curdling in his stomach that he was extremely late for the morning's meeting.

"And she married Ron… I wonder if my brother knows what he's gotten himself into," Bill replied humorously. Arthur smiled.

"Oh he knows. Trust me," Harry said.

"Bring Teddy over for dinner, will you? Molly has been asking for him. Andromeda is invited too," Arthur told him as they parted ways.

"Sure thing."


	31. Chapter 31

Malcolm crawled out of the fireplace on his hands and knees hyperventilating. Draco rounded on him immediately.

"WHAT were you thinking?!" he yelled. Malcolm rolled over on his back across the hearth of the fireplace and stared up at the cross blonde man standing over him with a murderous expression. His lips were pulled back in a snarl.

"You were taking so long-"

"I don't care! I told you to stay put! Do you know what you just did?!" Draco's voice was getting higher and higher by the second.

"Let me give it a shot. I found out the name of my possible birth mother?" Malcolm tried.

"NO! You just put me through the most embarrassing moment of my entire life! That's what you did!" Draco screamed at him.

"I thought it went well," Malcolm offered helpfully. "Nobody died."

Draco looked down at him in disgust, mouth opening and shutting in apparent loss for words strong enough to voice his anger and frustration.

"Don't. Speak. To. Me. Ever. Again," Draco finally growled at him and stomped up the main staircase. He slammed the door to his bedroom shut and the house was thrown into maddening silence.

Malcolm slowly climbed to his feet and stared at his surroundings at a loss.

"Bit of an overreaction," he muttered to himself and brushed off his shirt.


	32. Chapter 32

Malcolm knocked on the door a few minutes later.

"Go away," he heard Draco say.

"But I'm knocking on the door politely for, like, the first time ever in my life. It's a miracle," Malcolm insisted.

There was no answer so Malcolm pushed open the door and walked into the room. It was a mess. Parchment littered the floor and Draco was hunched over the window sill with his head buried in his hands.

"Is there something going on that I should know about?" Malcolm asked barely above a whisper. Draco's shoulders twitched at the sound of his voice.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Draco moaned pitifully. Malcolm flinched, stung.

His voice was muffled and strained. Malcolm reached out a hand and placed it on Draco's shoulder.

"Are you… are you crying?" he asked in softly spoken horror. Draco popped his head up and wrenched Malcolm's hand away. His eyes were red and there was an obvious wetness beneath them. Malcolm's stomach clenched painfully and guiltily.

"I told you never to speak to me again!" Draco lashed out at him. Malcolm stumbled backward, wishing he had a tail he could tuck between his legs.

"I don't know what I did to embarrass you. I know I shouldn't have followed you to the Ministry but I was just curious," he said pleaded.

Draco took a deep, shaking breath and clutched at his stomach. Tears were still streaming down his face and Malcolm was entirely confused.

"**I killed his son**! And you… you! You had to go and find the one person in the _entire universe_ who didn't need to see my fucking face, moron!" Draco shouted at him. Then he choked on a sob and had to steady himself on his feet with the help of the desk beside him. The circles were already back beneath his grey eyes and he looked absolutely wretched.

"What? You haven't killed anyone before," Malcolm stuttered.

Draco started flinging more parchment to the floor, digging for something. He found a newspaper clipping that was yellowing around the edges and then crumpled it up and threw it at Malcolm in a fit of unidentifiable desperation mixed with rage. It bounced off Malcolm's chest and he snatched it off the floor, desperate to understand what the hell was going on.

It was a black and white photo of a young man smiling up at him and waving at the camera. The caption under the clipping read "**Fred Weasley: Co-Owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Another Victim of The Battle of Hogwarts**".

Malcolm read on, brown eyes scanning the short obituary blurb.

"But it says right here that he died from wounds sustained in the battle during an explosion," Malcolm insisted.

Draco grabbed a handful of his own hair and sank to his knees muttering "I killed him. It's my fault, don't you see? All of them are dead because of me. Fred, Lupin, Professor Dumbledore…"

Malcolm dropped the obituary and hunkered down in front of Draco, finally able to put two and two together. Draco had found him in the company of Arthur Weasley, Fred Weasley's father. It was obvious now that he was mortified to have faced the man who he thought blamed him for his son's death.

"You're saying you think Fred's family blames you for what happened to him?" Malcolm asked. Draco managed to nod before his face screwed up again and more sobs escaped his throat. He clenched his eyes shut and began rocking back and forth on the floor.

_He is losing it_.

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. I didn't know he would die. I… I… I always thought he was f-funny," Draco's voice broke.

Malcolm reached out and forcefully pulled Draco against him and began rocking back and forth to calm him down. At first Draco resisted but finally he collapsed fitfully and exhaustedly in Malcolm's arms now crying freely beneath the weight of his own condemnation.

"It's been seven years, Draco," Malcolm said frantically, almost to himself. "Nobody deserves that kind of torture."

"I t-thought he w-was funny," Draco repeated pleadingly, letting Malcolm smooth down his hair.

"I know," Malcolm whispered and clung to him as tightly as he could.

"I know."


	33. Chapter 33

Draco finally calmed down after a few minutes of Malcolm's hushing and soothing presence. He made to sit up but Malcolm held him back.

"Don't even think about it," Malcolm said. Draco took a few deep, shaking breaths and laid his head back down in Malcolm's lap and shutting his tear-swollen eyes.

"Tibby?" Malcolm asked for the house elf experimentally.

_Pop_!

The house elf immediately appeared in the room expectantly, ears perked up and blinking rapidly at the sight of the two men curled up on the floor.

"Tibby is hoping to be of service," she said and bowed respectfully. Her long nose nearly touched the floor.

Malcolm smiled at her.

"Could you be a dear and bring us some tea and biscuits?"

Tibby looked down at Draco for confirmation. He nodded his head and she disappeared momentarily, reappearing with a tray of fresh biscuits and two piping hot cups of tea.

"You are wonderful. I like you," Malcolm said as she placed the tray on the floor next to them. Tibby's ears twitched with obvious pleasure at the compliment and she bowed once more before disappearing again.

"Alright. Let's get down to business," he spoke to Draco.

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco croaked.

"But you must talk to someone and I'm right here, all ears," Malcolm insisted. He tried to keep his voice light and calm. He ran his fingers through Draco's hair and hummed a tune under his breath, knowing that Draco would eventually tell him the entire sordid tale. He was not disappointed.

"I spent my entire sixth year at Hogwarts trying to find ways to murder the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. If I didn't succeed, the Dark Lord was going to kill me and then kill my mother and father. I finally cornered Professor Dumbledore on the Astronomy tower and I… couldn't do it. But I watched him die anyway. I didn't stop it from happening," Draco began speaking into the folds of Malcolm's shirt.

"So you were blackmailed into doing something you didn't want to do with your and your family's lives hanging in the balance. Not your fault. Check. The next person?" Malcolm ticked off on his finger.

"I watched my Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Burbage, murdered and eaten by a huge snake in my dining room and I didn't lift a finger to stop it happening. I was too scared," Draco muttered.

"This… This dining room?" Malcolm asked, goose bumps erupting on his arms.

"No. It happened in the house I grew up in. Not this one. I had this place built and moved away," Draco told him. Malcolm sighed, relaxing.

"… Understandable."

"I was forced by the Dark Lord to torture followers who had displeased him so he could… teach me how to do it," Draco shuddered.

"I can't… I can't talk about this-" Draco suddenly said wildly and Malcolm squeezed his shoulders.

"Oh yes you can. Go on," Malcolm urged him. Draco grimaced and curled up tighter into a ball like he didn't want to think about it but was forcing himself to anyway.

"The final battle- Oh god, I lead Crabbe to the room of Requirement to capture Harry Potter to end it all and save my family from the Dark Lord's wrath and Crabbe… Crabbe died in the fire. And then… then I found out Professor Lupin had died in the battle. He has a son. His son is going to grow up never knowing his own f-father-" Draco said in shaky horror.

"You didn't kill them, Draco! That was the Dark Lord's doing!"

"And then I found out F-Fred had died. He was a twin, you know. I never told anybody then but… I _liked_ them. They were always cracking jokes and I can't imagine-" Draco finally finished. He seemed worn out of crying and stared listlessly at the buttons on Malcolm's shirt, glassy-eyed.

"I'm going to tell you something that you may or may not believe, depending on how much you insist on hating yourself. You can't ever redeem yourself. Know why? Because you were just as much of a victim of the Dark Lord as anyone else who has survived. Their deaths are on **his** hands, not yours. You were a kid, Draco. You didn't choose what he made you do. You didn't choose what your father, who deserves just as much of the blame by the way, involved you in. It's okay to be regretful but not to _this_ extent. You aren't a cold blooded killer. A few balloon shy of a happy parade, maybe… but you aren't evil," Malcolm told him.

"But they all hate me-"

"Oh _bullshit_! I met Harry Potter today. There's a nice bloke. I brought you up and he only said you two didn't get along very well. He didn't say 'Oh so you're hanging around with an evil bloodsucker who had a hand in all those people's deaths', now did he? No. And you might have noticed, but Arthur and Bill weren't screaming for your head either. I think it's pretty obvious they don't blame you for Fred's death, much less anyone else's," Malcolm insisted sternly.

"They still could _feel_ that way," Draco replied with a little less confidence than previously.

"I highly doubt it. I think you should talk to them. It might make you feel better to tell them what you told me because they will tell you the same thing, I'm positive," Malcolm said.

"You're insane," Draco grumbled at the idea of speaking to Harry or the Weasleys.

"Ditto," Malcolm replied. "I've never met someone so egotistical that they compare themselves to an evil bloody dictator."

They both fell into silence for a few minutes to mull over each thing the other said. Eventually Draco sat up on his own and rubbed his eyes.

"Tea?" Malcolm offered.


	34. Chapter 34

"You're _joking_," Ron snorted, looking at Hermione as if she had just told him she was joining a tap dancing crew to tour the country.

"Why would we be joking?" Hermione asked. "Ask Harry, he was there too."

Ron rounded on Harry. Harry stepped back and shook his head to indicate that, no, he was not joking and neither was Hermione. Ron's face was of such comical surprise that Harry would have laughed had he not planned on confirming what happened at the Ministry while Ron was helping George at the joke shop.

"Seriously? Does Mum know yet?" he asked with a shifty glance at the Burrow's kitchen window. They could all see Mrs. Weasley bustling about cooking dinner with Teddy's help (or hindrance, depending on how one sees a seven year old's contributions). Ginny stood in the front yard next to Harry and placed her hand on the small baby bump that had developed in the past few weeks. Harry instinctively put an arm around her and she gave him a smile.

Hermione shook her head warily.

"Not that I know of. I doubt Arthur will tell her until we can confirm Malcolm's story. Draco Malfoy won't be too pleased if Malcolm is her nephew but it would be prudent to be careful going about it just in case he isn't Fabian's illegitimate child-"

"Who?" Ron demanded.

"Fabian Prew-"

"Did you say Draco Malfoy? What in the bloody hell does _he_ have to do with any possible cousin of mine?" Ron asked, looking thoroughly irritated and defensive.

"He and Malcolm are friends. Harry told me," Ginny added when Ron immediately looked scandalized. "I am throwing you under the bus," she told Harry with a mischievous wink and began playing with the wedding ring on his finger.

"I noticed," Harry replied. She squeezed his hand.

"No fucking way-" Ron replied with outrage.

"Before you go all self-righteous, Ronald, I would like to remind you that we are all adults now. Draco can be friends with whomever he wants… even if Malcolm doesn't entirely stand up to his usual criteria," she added sounding a little confused herself.

Ron's mouth gaped open and snapped shut several times. Harry thought he highly resembled an indignant fish.

"I like him," Harry added helpfully.

"_Malfoy_?" Ron asked flabbergasted. He even had the decency to act slightly disgusted by the admission.

"Malcolm. He's funny. Weird too, but I think he says certain things to catch people off guard. He'd probably get along well with George, honestly," Harry corrected him.

"Harry, I have to go inside and sit down. I'm feeling a bit woozy," Ginny interrupted the conversation.

"Don't worry," she stopped him when he became concerned, "It's just James squirming about. I'm fine."

They started walking back to the house together. Ron took Hermione's hand and quickly kissed the top of her head, following Harry and Ginny as well as continuing a somewhat humorous argument about whether it was an 'adult' move to punch Draco Malfoy in the jugular the next time Ron caught sight of him.

Suddenly the front door banged open and a young boy with electric green hair bounded by the steps covered in what looked like…

"Mashed peas?" Ginny asked quizzically.

"Harry! Harry! Come see what I made! It's a volcano!" Teddy Lupin shouted excitedly.

"I'm sure Mum is pleased," Ron laughed heartily. Teddy grabbed Harry's hand and started jumping up and down excitedly, dragging him to the door.

Harry looked backward at Ginny for help but she only waved.

"Good luck," she yelled after him with an innocent smile.

"Why do you keep throwing him under the bus?" Ron asked. Hermione grinned.

"In case you didn't notice, I'm pregnant. Pretty soon I am going to be cleaning up mashed food on a weekly basis. I think Harry should have a go at it every once in a while," Ginny said sweetly.


	35. Chapter 35

Draco sat on the couch in front of the fireplace at Malcolm's insistence.

"I don't know why you hang around me. I'm a coward," he mumbled and leaned his head backward over the back. He closed his eyes and Malcolm felt a pang of sorrow at the way his pale face was taut and drawn, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks. Guilt was apparently a tiresome thing to carry on one's shoulders. Draco was the picture of mental anguish.

"I don't know why you hang around _me_. I'm not even a wizard," Malcolm responded. He plopped down beside Draco and kicked his feet up on the end table.

"Well… You're weird enough to be one," Draco told him, opening one eye and staring at him.

"Thanks," Malcolm smiled. "I'm taking that as a compliment."

Draco sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"You must think I'm mental," he groaned.

"Sometimes. Do you know what would be cool?" Malcolm asked.

Draco cocked a blonde eyebrow.

"What?"

"Having the jarvey in the house. Do you think it could be house trained so it doesn't pee on my shoes? I could teach it to say-"

"Not again! I'm not keeping a jarvey in my house. That is final, Malcolm," Draco huffed. He sat up and seemed to slowly be coming back to his normal authoritative attitude.

"But it's so cute-"

"It's also _dirty_ and not fun to make angry. They bite- in case you didn't see its vicious little teeth," Draco rolled his eyes. Then he cracked a grin like he couldn't help himself and laughed a little bit.

"Well that was easy," Malcolm muttered with a grin.

"What was easy?" Draco immediately frowned, suspicious.

"You're feeling better already," Malcolm teased him and tossed a pillow at Draco.

"I swear to Merlin's armpits! You're just trying to provoke me, aren't you?" Draco asked.

Malcolm shrugged but it was all the confirmation Draco needed.

"Fucking jarveys in the house, I swear… Just the _idea_!" Draco scoffed but he relaxed backward again. He flicked his wand at the large window curtains and they snapped closed.

"I don't think you're a coward. Prideful, sure. Hurt, definitely. Regretful, no question about it. Coward? I haven't seen that yet," Malcolm ticked each trait off on his fingers.

Draco grimaced.

"You're wrong, you know," he said quietly.

"Maybe. But honestly, I think you are just lost and don't know what to do sometimes… that's not cowardice. At least, I don't think so," Malcolm suggested timidly.

"What do you know about it? What are your faults?" Draco asked, swiftly changing the subject.

Malcolm was silent for a few moments. He stared down at the rug in deep thought.

"My faults… Hm. I'm chronically unable to hold down a job because I get bored easily. I don't know when to keep my mouth shut-"

Draco nodded vigorously in agreement.

"I also don't know if it's okay to kiss you because I'm afraid you're going to turn me into a puddle of goo or set my hair on fire, so I haven't," Malcolm added with a wry half-smile.

Draco froze.

"…what?"

"Would you set my hair on fire if I did that?" Malcolm asked. Draco gawped at him, clearly at a loss.

"Well anywho," Malcolm said after a long moment of awkward silence, "I should probably go do something, er, extremely important right about now so I'll get right on that."

"…no."

Malcolm had started to get up but turned his head so quickly he felt a few vertebrae pop in protest.

"Really? Because I absolutely want to kiss you right now… Oh who _cares_," he decided finally and leaned over Draco.

Draco startled when Malcolm's mouth immediately found his, lips crushed against each other and a hand forcing his head upward. Too soon, Malcolm had pulled away with a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes looking extremely pleased (and relieved he still had all of his limbs, possibly).

"See? That was nice, wasn't it?" Malcolm asked, voice low and husky.

Draco realized he hadn't been breathing and took a sharp intake of air into his needy lungs. Malcolm looked down at him, puzzled by the lack of response and embarrassed that Draco only stared at him with a bug-eyed expression.

"Or not…" he mumbled, shoulders slumping dejectedly. He began to scoot away slowly.

Draco suddenly lunged at Malcolm. Malcolm made a small noise of surprise and found himself tumbling off the couch onto the rug on his back, entirely encompassed within Draco's surprisingly needy aggression. He wrapped his arms around Draco and returned the kiss with equal pleasure and surprise. Draco eventually came up for air and, with an intensity that shocked even himself, he straddled Malcolm and frantically began unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands.

"This is _awesome_," Malcolm managed to say before Draco leaned down and covered his mouth again with his own, effectively silencing him.

This time, he didn't mind.


	36. Chapter 36

"My parents won't approve of… this," Draco mumbled.

They were both completely bare and laying on the floor together catching their breath. Malcolm stretched and rolled over onto his elbow to look at Draco. He was afraid, by Draco's words, that the man would get skittish and react badly. But Draco was calm and looking up at Malcolm in fascination.

"Do you care?" Malcolm asked and brushed a few strands of white blonde hair off Draco's forehead.

Draco shrugged.

"Not as much as I thought I would, I guess. I'm tired of caring," he answered.

"So… does this mean you like me? Can we do this all the time?" Malcolm smiled in relief. Draco's eyes lit up uncharacteristically.

"Yes. I'm sure I like you. So what does this make us?" he asked and reached up, running his hand through Malcolm's messy hair.

"Oh my god, let's be _boyfriends_!" Malcolm exclaimed excitedly, eyes wide with exaggerated giddiness.

Draco threw his head back and laughed as Malcolm dove upon him, kissing his chest and nibbling playfully at his neck.

"We will keep that to ourselves for now," Draco told him. "You could be a mad man. My reputation would be ruined."

"_What_ reputation?" Malcolm chuckled. Draco swatted lightly at him but still couldn't help grinning like a maniac.

"Watch it. I happen to be very important."

"Oh I'm sure."

"Hey! Ah!" Draco shouted in surprise when Malcolm did something with his tongue. "Can you warn me first?"

Malcolm lifted his head and made an innocent face.

"We should go to Diagon Alley," he suddenly said with importance.

Draco's eyebrow lifted in disbelief.

"Did you seriously just stop what you were doing to ask me that?" he wondered aloud with a bit of whine in his voice.

"Aha! I knew you liked it. And yes, I think we should go visit Diagon Alley. Tomorrow of course. I'm kind of _busy_ at the moment," Malcolm told him.

"Yes you _are_. We will discuss that later," Draco demanded.

"As you wish," Malcolm nodded.


	37. Chapter 37

"Oh man… I think I'm going to be sick," Malcolm wobbled unsteadily to his feet. Draco detached himself from Malcolm's shaky grip and smoothed out his robes.

"Not on me, you aren't. This was your bloody idea," Draco rolled his eyes. Tom, the barman of the Leaky Cauldron, looked up from serving a witch wearing a boat hat and nodded at Draco in greeting. Draco nodded back and waited patiently to find out whether or not Malcolm was going to spew his breakfast on the floor.

"It's like a really neat carnival ride, except scarier and makes my stomach feel like it's going to crawl out of my mouth," Malcolm groaned.

"Completely disgusting," Draco sighed.

"Also completely true," Malcolm made a gagging noise and Draco jumped back quickly. The Leaky Cauldron was full of people but it seemed like magic the way people happened to disappear from the ten foot radius Malcolm occupied.

"Is it staying in or coming out," Draco asked patiently.

"I think… I think it's stay- Oops, no- it's coming out," Malcolm suddenly dashed back to the hearth and violently puked.

After a few minutes, Malcolm and Draco were being given wide berth on their way to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"I apologize for my friend, Tom," Draco said absently as he passed. Tom shrugged and pointed his wand at the mess Malcolm made.

"Happens all the time," Tom replied. Malcolm waved at the gawkers for a moment before Draco yanked him back by his collar and tapped his wand on the brick wall.

Malcolm watched with fascination as the bricks began to fold back and Diagon Alley came into bright bustling view.

"I was too terrified to notice how that works the first time… You know, being a fugitive and all," he commented.

Draco found himself smirking and in good spirits as he led Malcolm into the street.


	38. Chapter 38

"Ollivander's," Malcolm read the sign aloud.

"Yes. Come on," Draco coaxed him.

"Is this some sort of mean joke?" Malcolm accused him as they stepped into the shop.

Draco didn't have time to answer because Malcolm was immediately was drawn to a dusty display of wands along the wall, running his finger longingly over the fine glossy wood and lost his train of thought as he studied them. Draco walked up to the counter.

"Ah. Mr. Malfoy," came a reedy voice as a stooped older man came into view from the back of the shop.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Ollivander," Draco greeted him back. Malcolm was still absorbed with fascination at the different types of wands lining the walls, stacked precariously high in boxes or laying innocently behind glass cases.

"I see you still have your own wand. May I ask what honor I am being bestowed with today?" Mr. Ollivander asked with shrewd politeness.

Draco pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Malcolm, who wasn't paying any attention to the shopkeeper or the words being exchanged.

"Do you have a display prototype I can purchase? Money is of no consequence," he said in a low voice.

Mr. Ollivander's eyes flickered toward Malcolm again and a dawning of understanding lit up his wrinkled and graying face.

"I see. Squib?"

Draco nodded, taking a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Malcolm was properly occupied for the moment. Mr. Ollivander shuffled between a row of shelves behind the counter and began digging through the contents.

"Yes, here we go. Eleven inches. Ash. Lacks a core. Of course, I _did_ have plans for this one-" he slid the box across the counter with a glint of humor. Draco placed a few galleons on the counter and Mr. Ollivander's eyes went wide.

"Yes, that will do," he said and placed a gnarled hand over the money as if daring Draco to withdraw the sum.

Draco picked up the core-less wand and thanked Mr. Ollivander graciously. Then he turned back to Malcolm, walked back across the shop and poked him in the cheek with the wood. Malcolm startled and held his hands up above his head as if under arrest.

"What did I do?" he asked, entirely confused.

"This," Draco indicated the wand, "is yours. It doesn't have a core which means you can't do mag-"

Malcolm snatched the piece of wood out of his hand and held it up to his face, brown eyes alight with wonder.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief and eyeballed Draco.

"Er… Yes. Really. Just don't go waving it all over the place and scaring people with it," Draco said. "Let's go."

"I could kiss you right now," Malcolm mumbled in awe still holding the wand in his hand as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Well don't. You can thank me later," Draco told him.

"Oh I _will_. I will thank you so hard you won't be able to walk in the morning," Malcolm replied, swishing the wand around in the air experimentally.

Draco sighed dramatically but, when Malcolm fell in line behind him into the busy street, it took all of his effort not to grin.


	39. Chapter 39

"Oh look, Draco! Another shop," Malcolm pointed excitedly.

"Yes… another shop," Draco replied absently. They had been having this simple conversation for a few minutes, back and forth. He was certain Malcolm was having a bit of fun with the petty game, hoping to get a rise of annoyance out of Draco but Draco was determined not to give in until Malcolm got bored and stopped pointing out every single inconsequential thing he saw.

"What's that one do?" he asked, waving his wand in its direction. Draco calmly covered Malcolm's hand and lowered the wand when several young wizards ducked their heads.

"That one Madame Malkin's. Robes for all occasions," he told him.

Draco had walked a number of feet ahead when he realized Malcolm wasn't beside him. He turned around and saw Malcolm staring into the window with fascination. Draco sighed with resignation.

"Do you want a set of robes?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Malcolm hastily pulled out his wallet and shoved a wad of notes and coins into Draco's hands. Draco looked down at the crumpled objects in his hands as if Malcolm had just given him a tissue that had been sneezed on.

"…Erm. What is this?" he asked and held up a fifty pence piece for inspection with the air of someone holding a live grenade.

"Money, of course. It's only a few pounds worth but it's all I've got to pay you back with," Malcolm shrugged apologetically.

"Actually," Draco poured the contents back into Malcolm's hands, "Your money is no good here."

"Aw, that's so sweet of you-"

"Literally. It isn't good. It can't buy you anything in the wizarding world. We have our own monetary system all that rubbish you just put into my hands is just that- rubbish," Draco muttered and brushed his fingers off as if to rid them of germs.

"Oh. Well that sucks," Malcolm replied with a miffed expression. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Come on. I will be doing myself a favor buying you a few sets of robes so you won't continue to borrow my clothes and pop the buttons off the cuffs," Draco told him.

"Good grief… Buying me all of these things- You are rich, aren't you?" Malcolm asked with a quirky smile.

Draco nodded in affirmation and wheeled Malcolm toward the entrance to Madame Malkin's.

"My boyfriend is rich!" Malcolm shouted out into the street at several young witches.

They snorted and began giggling as they passed. The group of young witches batted their eyelashes at the both of them before flouncing away, tittering amongst themselves.

"_Shut up!_ Get in here before I change my mind," Draco hissed, mortified.

"You know, Draco, one day you will get used to my obscene behavior."

"I won't have to if you're dead. It's sounding like a better idea each time you go out of your way to embarrass me."

"Like Romeo and Juliet, we are. More like Romeo and Julio actually… but whatever, you know what I mean," Malcolm teased Draco when they entered the robe shop.

"No," Draco huffed.

"Seriously? Tell me you've at least heard of Shakespeare," Malcolm scoffed.

"No."

"…Wow. Well to make a long story short, Romeo and Juliet were star-crossed lovers and both of them died to be with each other-"

"I really don't care."

"Of course you don't. I want black robes by the way. I'll look like Neo."

"I don't know what a Neo is but if it will make you shut up, then sure."

"I highly doubt it."

"What can I say? I'm an optimist."


	40. Chapter 40

"I feel like I'm in the Matrix. I could totally bend backward right now and defeat a barrage of bullets in this get-up," Malcolm said proudly. He pulled at the neck of his new black robes and adjusted himself in front of the mirror. He made a swooshing noise through his teeth and pretended he was flying.

"Do you sell sun glasses here?" he inquired. Madame Malkin shook her head and continued measuring the hems to make sure the length was accurate for his long legs. She was having a bit of difficulty with his constant moving about but she didn't seem to mind. Mostly likely she was used to the attention deficit disorder of children arriving for their school robes to start their first year at Hogwarts.

Draco leaned against the far wall of the shop with a strange expression on his face as he watched Malcolm joke around. Malcolm looked into the mirror at his reflection and his eyebrows lifted.

"What?"

Draco shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You look… decent actually. To think- if you kept absolutely still and quiet for a day you could be mistaken for a first class wizard," he smirked.

"Ah. We both know that won't happen," Malcolm chuckled and Draco rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face.

"Ever the optimist," Draco commented.

"I'm pretty sure you just complimented my good looks, by the way. You better watch out, Miss… he's probably going to jump on me in a moment with all of that ill-concealed longing for my gorgeous body," Malcolm told Madame Malkin.

She waved her wand at the hem of his sleeve, which grew a miniscule bit longer. Draco groaned and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"Not while I'm busy with this, he isn't," she dead-panned in concentration which made Malcolm laugh.

"I have no intentions of interrupting your work," Draco finally managed to defend himself with an embarrassed glare at the back of Malcolm's head.

A few minutes later, they both left the robe shop and joined the crowd of witches and wizards in the street. Malcolm strutted alongside Draco and was nearly vibrating with excitement, twirling his new wand in his fingers and whistling a crude tune.

"You're just walking like that so your robes will flow out behind you," Draco told him. "I don't know why I ever agreed to take you out in public."

Malcolm grinned and threw an arm around Draco's shoulder as they walked. Draco, resigned to his fate, didn't shrug it off.

"Because you like me. You like my sense of fun, my dashing good looks and my _winkie_," Malcolm answered him and waved at random passerby. Some of them even waved back, mainly because they couldn't hear the conversation over the din of crowds of people crushing into Diagon Alley.

"Don't ever call it that again, please," Draco grimaced. "That's so… embarrassing."


	41. Chapter 41

"I want to go in _there_," Malcolm suddenly pointed with finality at another store front.

Draco saw he was pointing at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and swallowed with difficulty. His lips suddenly felt too dry and he licked nervously at them.

"Another day-"

"Oh don't start with that. That place is so busy no one will even recognize you," Malcolm assured him, squeezing Draco's shoulders compassionately. "See? That kid has bubbles coming out of his _ears_. Who's going to pay attention to us classy young men browsing the merchandise when children have bubbles popping out of their heads? Then again if someone as good looking as you walked into my store I'd give you a lot of attention. Dinner and a movie, a candlelit session in a quiet place… I now realize I don't have the best persuasion skills."

Draco wasn't feeling comforted.

"It's my family! My cousin I've never met is in there. I already know he has good taste, just look at that display of singing socks. Genius…" Malcolm trailed off and began walking toward the window for a better look into the joke shop.

Draco didn't follow. Malcolm turned around to see Draco looking at the magically flashing sign on the store-front with an expression of jittery fear. It was shocking to Malcolm, who was used to his usual flares of annoyance or sighs of resignation.

"I need to get money out of my vault. I will meet up with you later-" Draco muttered and began walking toward Gringrott's Wizarding Bank without another word. Malcolm bolted after him and spun him around with a snatch of the wrist.

"Please come with me. I won't let anything happen to you-"

Draco snorted but had a wild and harried look on his face. His grey eyes darted around randomly as if he were uncomfortable looking Malcolm in the eye.

"Right. Like I'd give anyone a chance to hurt me. You go on. I will catch up later," Draco said but Malcolm wouldn't let go of him.

"I'm not going in unless you come with me," Malcolm told him in a low and final tone, "so let's go get your freaky wizard money."

Malcolm could feel a crushing disappointment as he made the decision but tried to pull off the suggestion as nonchalantly as possible.

"That's blackmail," Draco said quietly and his eyes narrowed angrily.

"No it's not. I'm not going to make you go inside if you don't want to. I understand how you feel about my family. Believe it or not, I am an adult and I can go another day without visiting a joke shop. So let's go," Malcolm patted Draco's cheek to let him know he wasn't extremely upset.

He clutched Draco's hand in his, dragging him down the street toward Gringrott's. Another group of school-aged girls giggled as they passed.

Draco initially let Malcolm lead him away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes but began to resist with a pained expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" Malcolm asked, finally stopping in front of Eyelop's Owl Emporium.

"If George comes after me… will you head him off until I can get out of there?" Draco asked, head lowered and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Absolutely. I'd fight a dragon with my bare fists if I knew it would save you… I should admit though that I would probably fail miserably and we'd both be dead if saving our lives was left up to me. I am not an expert in dragon slaying in case you couldn't figure that out. Do dragons know karate? Well I guess that doesn't matter because of the whole breathing fire thing. Wait, why are you changing your mind? Really, it's fine. We don't have to go in," Malcolm tried reassuring him.

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking over his shoulder at the bright and colorful joke shop storefront.

"I feel guilty keeping you away."

"Goodness, Mr. Malfoy feels guilty about something? What a revelation. Stop the presses," Malcolm said sarcastically and squeezed Draco's fingers to let him know he wasn't being mean. But he felt excitement begin to replace the dull disappointment that had previously been pumping through his veins.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Draco rubbed nervously at the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Draco, we don't-"

"Just shut up. You stand in front of me so I can duck if I need to."


	42. Chapter 42

The joke shop was unlike anything Malcolm had ever seen before. Wands that turned into silly objects when you flicked them, card games that would make fun of the owner's opponent, stink bombs, daydreaming potions of all kinds, scarves and hats that could make the head of the person wearing it disappear… And the place was a crushing mess of people of all ages- young children chasing each other beneath the patrons feet all the way upwards in age of the ancient wrinkled witch purchasing a chess set purported to cheat so the owner would win every game.

"Draco, isn't this amazing?!" Malcolm shouted over the din. He picked up a wand out of a bin and flicked it in the air excitedly and gave a shout of delight when it instantly turned into a bouquet of flowers.

Draco leaned awkwardly against a shelf of funny comics looking down toward the floor make sure a group of raucous little boys wouldn't run into him. His eyes would widen for a brief second and then he would scoot this way and then that way to avoid contact each time they chased one another through the aisle both of them were standing in.

"Sure," he answered in high fake cheery voice. His expression was of the opposite opinion. Malcolm snorted, amused, as Draco backed as close as he could to the shelf and straightened his back as the kids rushed by again. He gazed at Malcolm for a brief second and Malcolm actually felt bad because of the desperate look of failing bravado.

"Hey. Come stand by me for a minute and the next time those runts come barging through here, I will pick them up by the collar and deposit them in that bin over there, okay?" Malcolm smiled and held out a hand. Draco looked to his left to make sure the coast was clear and stepped fully into the aisle. Then he looked right and immediately leapt back to escape getting run over by the kids darting past again, shrieking happily at the top of their little lungs.

"Are you afraid of children or something?" Malcolm asked, cocking his head to the side.

Draco shook his head.

"No. I don't _like_ them much but they don't _scare_ me. I just don't want to be here in general and they are freaking me out. Where are their parents? I could accidently kick one and squish it! Can we leave?" Draco pleaded with an air of trying to be as manly as possible about the situation.

Malcolm chuckled, realizing he was beginning to understand a little bit more about the man every day that passed and felt a startlingly different type of empathy for Draco. Malcolm put down the trick wand and began walking over to Draco, who looked somewhat relieved as Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, obviously to agree to a departure.

"Yes, we can le- OOMPH!"

Malcolm felt a small body slam into the side of his leg. He lost his balance and went down like a lead weight to the floor, slipping on a joke banana peel one of the little youngsters had dropped.

"Sorry, sir!" the little boy who ran into his squeaked and giggled, scrambling up and chasing after his peers again.

"You little sh-" Malcolm groaned but stopped midsentence when he tried to capture air into his winded lungs. Draco's face suddenly hung over his head in concern with the beginnings of his characteristic smirk.

"Come on, up you get," Draco smiled.

He grabbed Malcolm's hand and helped him to a sitting position.

"Ralphie! Mummy told you to stop running! You knocked that poor man over! Come here, now!" they heard a woman yell at one of the young lads.

He wiped at his nose and trudged dejectedly to his mother, shoulders slumped.

Draco placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and smiled.

"Are you alright?" he asked, clearly enjoying his point being proven.

Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Yeah. I see why you were terrified now," Malcolm grunted and Draco hauled him to his feet.

"Speak of the devil," they heard a voice say. A man wearing robes labeled W.W.W. stuck out his freckly hand and grinned at Malcolm from beneath a mop of bright orange hair.

Malcolm took his hand, noticing Draco furtively shuffle behind him.

"I wouldn't say I'm _the_ Devil," Malcolm smiled pleasantly and shook the man's arm up and down.

"George Weasley, at your service. You wouldn't happen to be that Squib cousin of mine who's been hanging around Lord Malfoy, now would you?" George grinned.

"Malcolm Jackson, at your service. Nice place you've got here. Why don't you have another ear?" Malcolm rattled off conversationally, delighted.

"Oh my god, Malcolm! You can't just go around asking people why they don't have ears!" George replied, obviously messing around. He had a twinkle of humor in his brown eyes.

Malcolm cocked his head to the side and stared at George.

"I like you," he said in all seriousness.

"I am not surprised. I also hear you are so awesome that Draco Malfoy," he nodded with an eyebrow raised in Draco's direction, "lets you stay under his roof."

"I am that awesome. I'm pretty sure we are _both_ amazing in every single way," Malcolm said. "Me with the good looks and you with the joke shop and all."

"We _are_ amazing. Pleased to finally meet you. It's been nearly a full morning since Ron told me about you. Much too long, in my humble opinion," George grinned again and they both gave each other a fist bump.

"OY! Ron! He's over here!" George shouted over his shoulder. They all watched a tall, gangly man with the same bright orange hair and freckles bobbing through the crowd.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Out of the way, midgets!" Ron told a few young kids as he carefully pushed through them.

"_Well fuck me_," Draco groaned.


	43. Chapter 43

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ron demanded of Draco, halting beside George.

Draco gritted his teeth and put his hand over his wand in his pocket as a precaution.

"Like that's any concern of yours. Why don't you go back to slumping behind the counter selling _biting underwear_ like you should be?" Draco snarled, hackles rising.

Ron's upper lip rose in un-disguised contempt.

"I ought to have you searched for theft because it seems you've gotten yourself a pair on without _paying_ for them," he spat viciously.

Malcolm and George looked at each other, wide-eyed.

"Well this is… nice," Malcolm managed to say. "It's like old friends reuniting except… No, not at all like that actually."

"Yep," George replied in amusement. "You should have seen them at it at school."

"My god I would have loved to see that," Malcolm told him.

George shrugged.

"You would have been blinded by all of the raging narcissism and dull wit. Sharp as butter knives, as Fred would have said," he elbowed Malcolm jovially with a grin spreading across his face watching Ron and Draco staring each other down with murder on their minds.

"I don't know about that. If words were knives I'm sure both of them would have run each other through just now," Malcolm thought.

George laughed. Then he gestured at Ron and then at Malcolm.

"Malcolm, meet Ron. Ron, meet Malcolm," George introduced them with a flamboyant wave of his arm.

"Nice to meet you, Ron. How do you do?" Malcolm asked.

There was silence as Ron and Draco held a stand-off in the corner of the store. Malcolm edged closer to George and leaned against a bin of sparking sweets.

"It's so creepy how they can't even hear us over their hatred of each other," George said.

"Extremely creepy, yes. But fascinating. Can you let Ron know that I thought it was nice meeting him?" Malcolm snorted.

George stuck out his hand and shook Malcolm's like a gentleman.

"Of course. And it was nice meeting you. I'm sure once we figure out this whole family relation business, Mum will invite you over for dinner," George told him.

"Well, see you around cousin," Malcolm replied with a pleasant grin. Then he turned to Draco and grabbed his wand arm.

"I think it's time to go," he told him.

Both Draco and Ron snapped out of it.

"Wait, what? You can crash here. There's a spare bedroom upstairs. You don't have to go home with _him_," Ron snarled.

"If it's anywhere near Weasley's bedroom, it's probably crawling in filth," Draco snapped.

"I don't even _live here_- as if that's any of your business. I'm married now. Can't say the same for you, though. I doubt any girl in their right mind would come ten feet in your direction," Ron snorted.

"Right. I'm so jealous that _one_ person in the entire world can actually stand to be around you for more than a minute," Draco sneered.

"If it's all the same, I want to go home with Draco," Malcolm replied, holding his hands up in preparation to defend himself.

Ron looked shocked. Draco harrumphed and stuck his nose in the air in triumph.

"Come on. Let's go before we catch some sort of freckly disease," Draco muttered and led the way out of the joke shop, head high and robes billowing out behind his long stride.

Malcolm jogged to keep up and turned around to wave goodbye. George looked highly amused as he returned the wave. Ron didn't seem to know whether to wave at Malcolm or spit at Draco.

"I like them," Malcolm said conversationally as Draco pushed angrily through the crowd back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

"_You like everybody_," Draco rolled his eyes.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's note: A special thank you to Carrot-Bunny. She left a review that pointed out how Malcolm does seem to like everybody and her suggestion sparked the creativity for this scene. I agree with Carrot-Bunny… this could be one of several people Malcolm will dislike (with good reason).**

After they reemerged in the Leaky Cauldron (and Draco had stopped muttering death threats against Ron under his breath) both men took a seat at a table in the far corner of the pub. Malcolm snapped his fingers and ordered a few drinks. He didn't even bat an eye when both mugs soared to the table unaided.

"You know, I think I'm getting used to all of this magic stuff," Malcolm said as he took a sip of the liquid. He licked his lips with a curious expression on his face.

"What in the world is this?" he asked, staring down into his mug with a slight frown. Draco drank from his own mug.

"Butterbeer," he replied matter-of-factly and took another drink.

"But… I thought it was real beer. Why is it called beer if it isn't beer?" Malcolm asked Draco.

"It isn't extremely alcoholic but it is still beer. I suppose you can order something else if you don't like it," Draco told him, raising an eyebrow.

Malcolm took another sip and let it linger on his tongue. Then he shrugged.

"Nah. It tastes alright. I was just expecting something different, that's all. By the way, what in the hell happened back there at the joke shop?" Malcolm asked, intrigued.

Draco gritted his teeth. His jaw muscles twitched but he kept a cold expression of indifference as he took another drink of butterbeer.

"You just witnessed the world's biggest prat in action. Congratulations on being related to him," Draco laughed meanly.

"It was quite the show. What's the story?" Malcolm asked.

"Ron Weasley is stupid. End of story," Draco answered.

Malcolm, understanding that Draco wasn't the best person to give an accurate analysis of someone he so clearly disliked, let it drop. He was sure he'd figure out Ron on his own terms sooner or later. He highly doubted the enmity between them was purely black and white. Yes, he liked Draco- but Malcolm wasn't dense when it came to Draco's habit of sweeping generalizations and dislikes…

"George seems like a great guy, don't you think?" Malcolm asked, studying Draco's reaction.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I mean, he didn't seem to mind you at all," he continued with a smile.

"Yeah," Draco responded with a pained smile.

"Well, you aren't dead," Malcolm pointed out with a smile.

Draco slumped back in his chair with a fair amount of relief as Malcolm's words hit home. He opened his mouth to say something when they were both unceremoniously interrupted with a squeal that hurt Malcolm's ears.

"Draco! Darling!"

Draco's eyes widened in horror and he stood up quickly. Taken by surprise, before Malcolm could turn around to face the danger, a blur of a woman rushed by him and flung herself into Draco's arms.

"How come you never write to me? I never see you anymore! I'd think you would have found the time to stay in touch with your girlfriend," she gushed and batted her eyelashes, clinging to Draco's robes as he tried valiantly to gather his wits. Malcolm stood up as well, looking like someone had hit him in the head with a very large brick.

"Who are you?" Malcolm demanded. He tried to keep his voice pleasant but her words rang in his ears like an annoying bell.

The woman whirled around and stuck her short round nose in the air in a display of egotism with a simpering smile on her pinched face.

"You mean to tell me that you haven't told everyone about me, Draco?" she batted her eyelids again and placed her hands on her hips.

Draco cringed and backed away from her, holding his hands up to make a desperate "NO" gesture for Malcolm's benefit. Malcolm crossed his arms over his new robes.

"Pansy Parkinson. I don't believe we've met," she narrowed her eyes, sticking out her hand. Malcolm didn't take it, staring down at her with a sense of rising bewilderment and rage.

"I take it you forgot to mention this?" Malcolm spat at Draco.

"She's my ex- girlfriend," Draco said wildly with a pleading expression. "She's mad, honestly!"

"Oh Draco, we both know you don't mean that," Pansy said flippantly to him and turned back to face Malcolm with a nasty look, as if it were his fault she was being treated in such a way.

"Pansy. We. Are. Not. Together. Anymore," Draco sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for patience. Pansy looked outraged by the idea.

"Darling, you are mistaken," she said and reached out to Draco.

"Is she serious?" Malcolm demanded of Draco, not sure what to believe.

"I can explain this-" Draco suddenly lunged around her and grabbed Malcolm's arm, ignoring her sputtering.

He turned on his heel and disapparated with Malcolm.


	45. Chapter 45

Malcolm kneeled on the floor to catch his breath after he and Draco appeared in the manor parlor. Draco was crouched beside him and patted him on the back nervously.

"What… was… that?" Malcolm demanded, looking up a Draco accusingly.

"Malcolm, she's crazy! I tried to tell you that," Draco pleaded. Malcolm stood up shakily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You didn't think to mention that some crazy woman might show up, call herself your girlfriend and fondle you in public?" Malcolm asked, narrowing his eyes.

Draco stood up too, scratching the back of his neck with a hint of color rising to his cheeks.

"I honestly forgot about Pansy. She hasn't bothered me in weeks. All that stuff she said isn't true, I swear. Except, well, we did date in school but that was _years_ ago! I broke up with her in sixth year," Draco replied defensively. "She wanted me to marry her and I knew it would never happen because she annoyed me so I ended it."

"Oh great. _Only_ a few weeks, like that's supposed to make me feel better. Why did you even date her in the first place if you found her annoying, as you say?" Malcolm dug deeper as if he were having trouble believing what he was being told.

Draco sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly aggravated and embarrassed.

"She was useful at the time. She liked me so I dated her. She knew a lot of things about our fellow students and sometimes she'd be able to find out certain information and relay it to me if I needed her to. You don't understand what it was like back then… I did what I needed to do to survive and if it meant dating a troll, I would have done it."

"So you were both gossiping tits. Doesn't sound too retarded to me, then. After all, all she does is show up every now and then to grope you and piss me off, right?" Malcolm groaned. "Totally _not_ a big deal or anything that your ex-girlfriend is still trying to get you to _marry_ her. It doesn't matter that we are together or anything. Let's invite her over for dinner and an impromptu wedding ceremony! Ugh!"

Malcolm flapped his arms in frustration and Draco backed away.

"It's not like I haven't tried to make her go away!" he cringed.

"Like how? Going into hiding? Avoiding her?" Malcolm snorted derisively.

"What am I supposed to do? _Kill her_?" Draco snapped back.

"YES! GREAT IDEA!" Malcolm roared, eyes wide with anger.

The house went silent except for Malcolm's response echoing through the parlor. Draco and Malcolm glared at each other for a moment.

Then Draco's lips twitched and Malcolm let out embarrassed chuckle.

"Somebody is jealous," Draco poked his arm with a sly grin. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders and scuffed at the marble floor with his shoe.

"I wouldn't actually kill her. Just tie her to a rocket ship and send it to Pluto or something," Malcolm replied sheepishly.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Draco laughed, grey eyes lighting up at the idea.

Malcolm leaned in and kissed Draco on his cheek.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic. If Pansy shows up again, you can bet your ass it will be the last time."

Draco smiled.

"I take it back."

Malcolm, having calmed down a bit, cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Take what back?"

"You _don't_ like everybody."

"No. She is also ugly as sin," Malcolm told him. "You _are_ brave."

Draco threw his head back and laughed.

"If I recall, you told me you were going to thank me for buying you a wand today," Draco raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"You're just trying to prove how gay you are to me so I don't go around thinking you are hiding a bunch of girlfriends," Malcolm teased him.

"Are you refusing?"

"Of course not. I'm not _mental_."


	46. Chapter 46

"Draco."

Draco curled into a ball on his side and pulled the covers further up his bare shoulders, feeling blissfully exhausted and determined to fall back into light slumber.

"Draco."

The voice sounded far away and Draco clenched his eyes shut. His thoughts began to drift off again in sleepy and satisfied remembrance of his and Malcolm's heated exertions. What had begun as an exercise in possessive dominance (due to Malcolm's new-found sense of jealousy) had tapered off into an exercise in forgiveness and passion. Draco sighed and stretched as he examined his own sense of wonder that Malcolm, who was normally so quirky and exuberantly ridiculous, could be so serious when it came to Draco in any intimate manner.

"Psst! Draco!"

"What?"

"Why is this happening?" Malcolm asked in a high voice. He sounded uncomfortable.

Draco yawned and rubbed his eyes. He rolled onto his back and threw his arm out to feel for Malcolm. Draco's eyes fluttered open to inspect his surroundings and, yes, the bed was empty. He sat up and looked around the room. Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. It was odd.

_He's gone and made himself invisible?!_

"Malcolm?" Draco called out feeling unnerved.

"Yes?" Malcolm answered. Draco jerked his head upward to the ceiling and gave a shout of alarm.

"I understand how you are feeling right now. I'm not entirely sure how I got up here but, I can assure you, it is extremely cold and drafty around my private parts and I am not enjoying this one bit. I keep bumping my head into the chandelier," Malcolm said as calmly as possible even as he hovered completely naked above Draco's head.

"Is this really happening right now?" Draco finally found his voice, bemused and slightly annoyed.

"If it helps, I wish it wasn't happening at all either," Malcolm said and tried kicking his arms and legs like a swimmer to get down. It didn't work and he gave up.

Draco shimmied out of the bed and wrapped the blanket around his waist, all the while studying Malcolm's awkward floating figure and trying to figure out why his Squib boyfriend was hovering like a naked man-balloon in his bedroom.

"Does this always happen when someone has raunchy sexual relations with you? Because I distinctly remember this _not_ happening last time," Malcolm whined.

Unable to entirely comprehend the situation, Draco began laughing wildly, catching himself from falling over onto the floor by hanging onto the bed post. He laughed so hard he began to hiccup and snort while Malcolm pursed his lips together in disapproval. It made Draco laugh even more until he was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

"What… did… you eat?" he managed to choke, wiping his face on a corner of the bed sheet and clearly trying to compose himself properly to deal with the situation.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Malcolm crossed his arms sternly which threw Draco into another fit of laughter.

"Was… was it candy? From… from the bedside table drawer?" Draco hiccupped.

"Yes. So?" Malcolm growled and pushed away from the chandelier again so he didn't bump his floating head.

"It's joke candy. And it's also _old_ joke candy. It's extremely p-potent n-now," Draco wheezed, clutching at his sides and reaching for his wand.

He used a spell that caused Malcolm to lose his height and fall with a heavy crash to the floor. He sat up with a dazed look on his face.

"You could have done that ages ago," Malcolm accused him, rubbing his head.

"I could have but I needed a good laugh," Draco shrugged and helped him to his feet.

Malcolm ripped the sheet from around Draco's waist and threw it over his own shoulders, shivering. An owl tapped at the window with its beak and Draco threw the window open.

"It is from… Granger. Oh," he said and untied the letter. Malcolm leaned over and rested his chin on Draco's shoulder so he could read it too.


	47. Chapter 47

_**Dear Malcolm,**_

_**I hope this finds you well. I wrote to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and received a response back from their Records Department explaining that all of their patient records are private… understandably. Seeing as Amelia Bones is now deceased those records, I was informed, were permanently sealed from view. Harry offered his help by making it appear that you are under serious investigation for a crime and Amelia's health records were essential for evidence- though it required a personal appearance- he managed to pull it off this morning without attracting attention. Between the three of us, Harry is Head of the Auror Department at the Ministry as you know and it was somewhat illegal what he did so I suggest keeping that information to yourself so he doesn't get in a sticky spot over it. Don't worry though… he assures me the Records nurse was highly distracted by an outbreak of Dragon Pox in one of the wards so it is unlikely she will remember much of anything Harry said to her.**_

_**St. Mungo's handed over the file and Harry was able to confirm that Amelia Bones had come in several times in late 1981 for an obvious pregnancy. There isn't much to go on except for a few notations in her file about minimal complications and a reference to her "mental anguish". There is no mention of Fabian Prewett as the father of the unborn child but I think it is a safe bet to say that she is your mother. She stopped showing up at St. Mungo's by the end of December and there is a mention of sending a St. Mungo's doctor out for her 'home-birth' on the 28**__**th**__** of January, 1982. The file copy of the birth certificate lists your name as Malcolm Prewett but there is a notation by the filing nurse listing your name as Malcolm F. Prewett. I am assuming the first letter of your middle name is a reference to Fabian as your father.**_

_**As soon as I finish writing this letter I will be informing Arthur Weasley of what Harry and found for you. He has made it clear that he will explain everything to Molly Weasley once we found definitive proof of your lineage and, I should say, this definitely counts as proof. He didn't want to get her hopes up and upset her if it turned out you were misinformed about the nature of your birth. You understand- Fabian was her brother. I will make sure you get a copy of your original birth certificate (those aren't as difficult to come by now that we know your birth name).**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Hermione G. Weasley**_

_**P.S.- Ron (my husband) says that came off as rude at the joke shop and wants to apologize to you. He says he was pleased to meet you but was distracted. Also, he wants me to let you know that the offer of a spare room is still there should you ever need a place to say.**_

_**P.P.S.- He is badgering me to write you that you should come back to the joke shop without Draco Malfoy so he doesn't "ruin the fun". I disapprove of that suggestion because you should be able to hang around whomever you wish and I'm only pretending to write down all of his insults so he will be satisfied and let me send it off. I pick my battles. I advise you to ignore this post script. Some of us are **__**actually**__** adults. I apologize for wasting your time reading this.**_


	48. Chapter 48

"That's so weird knowing all of those details about Amelia," Malcolm whispered. "At least my parents kept my first name the same. Hermione seems like a nice girl, don't you think?"

Draco ignored that and rolled his eyes at the post-scripts. He gave Hermione's owl a treat before closing the window.

"At least you are pureblood," he said and turned around to steal some of the blanket wrapped around Malcolm. "The Bones family is very prominent in our world as well, luckily for you."

Malcolm grinned.

"And pure hunk. Why does it matter if I'm pureblood or not?" he asked and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and nuzzling his head in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco returned the embrace and rested his cheek on Malcom's shoulder, staring off into space in contemplation.

"Obviously it doesn't to me _now_… It just means that my parents will be less likely to murder a pureblood son," Draco said with a twinge of bitterness.

"So let me get this straight. Your parents won't care that their _son_ has a _boyfriend_ as long as he is pureblood?" Malcolm chuckled.

Draco scrunched up his face and leaned back to look Malcolm in the eye.

"Oh they _will_ care. They will both go mental. Malcolm, I'm an only child. I'm supposed to get married and have children to pass on the family name. You will be the most unwelcome person in existence… they will just be _less_ tempted to murder you. I'm sure that idea will come into play quite often," Draco explained sadly as if the very idea of his parents exhausted him.

Malcolm frowned and swooped in for a quick kiss on Draco's forehead.

"Don't get upset. Let's just take it day by day. But just so you know, I'm available for future marriage requests if it comes down to that," Malcolm winked.

Draco raised an eyebrow and let Malcolm's hands wander up and down his spine, raising pleasant goose bumps on his bare skin.

"It's a bit early to be having this type of conversation, isn't it?" Draco narrowed his grey eyes as he studied Malcolm.

"It's not a conversation. I'm only informing you ahead of time regarding my long-term, er, availability. And little Malfoy brats are still on the table as well," Malcolm replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I'm afraid to ask-" Draco shook his head.

"Trust me. Muggle science is insanely advanced… and that's all I'll say for now," Malcolm said cryptically.

Draco scoffed and contorted his features into a common expression of arrogant disbelief.

"Oh _please_ spare me. As if I'd believe Muggles were capable of anything _close_ to magic," he laughed.

"Don't be so quick to judge, sweet cheeks-"

"Don't call me _that_. It's patronizing-"

"… airplanes, Einstein, television, and computers! We've got anything you can think of!" Malcolm talked over him excitedly.

Draco snorted with laughter and Malcolm took the opportunity to dive in for a deep kiss, catching the breath in Draco's throat.

"My feet are cold. Can we hop in the bed again?" Malcolm suggested with a whisper into Draco's ear.

Draco nodded as he felt his pulse quicken. He led Malcolm back toward the mattress, pulling the man on top of him. Malcolm's eyes widened briefly before he began nibbling hungrily at any exposed skin he could put his lips on.

"You have no idea how sexy you are," Malcolm muttered and Draco grinned suggestively.

"I've got you wrapped around my finger, don't I?" Draco replied as he dug said fingers into the muscles rippling beneath the exposed skin on Malcolm's back.

"Only because I like that sort of thing, I'll have you know," Malcolm told him before pinning Draco's arms to the bed in a rough manner.

Draco grinned slyly and then pushed upward. He freed his wrists and tumbled over, taking Malcolm with him. He then pinned Malcolm's arms over his head and narrowed his eyes as if daring Malcolm to contradict this new change in position.

"God, this is amazing," Malcolm said appreciatively, chest heaving in excitement as he watched Draco saddling his waist.

"You just keep making my point," Draco told him with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

"That's _quite_ alright. Go on, continue making your point," Malcolm urged him with an equally mischievous grin.

Draco complied.


	49. Chapter 49

A little while later, Malcolm rested his chin on Draco's belly and looked up at him. Draco kept running his fingers through Malcolm's hair with slow, perfectly relaxed ease.

"Do you think I should write Hermione back?" Malcolm asked.

"Why would you want to?" Draco asked, squinting open one eye to look at him.

Malcolm shrugged and pressed his lips against his smooth stomach.

"To thank her and Harry for helping me out," he answered.

Draco sat up and Malcolm followed suit, reaching for Draco's long pale fingers and clasping them in his own. Draco leaned his head against Malcolm's shoulder and watched the veins moving in his hands as he traced patterns across his skin.

"You know what's going to happen, right? They are all going to try and take you away from me by telling you all sorts of horror stories about me," Draco said in a low and resigned manner.

Malcolm sighed.

"You don't see the best in people, you know," he responded. "I highly doubt they are going to try and turn me against you. And _you_ called _me_ jealous…"

"Well that's what I have you for now, I suppose. But it still stands that they are all going to tell you about how awful I used to be and why you shouldn't be my friend or, er, you know," Draco's jaw muscles twitched in worry and frustration.

"So why don't you go ahead and tell me everything now? I have already surmised that you were an obnoxious and bullying prat so it's not going to entirely surprise me-"

"I wasn't obnoxious!" Draco exclaimed in half-hearted defense.

"Fine. What are some possible embarrassing moments they might decide to tell me?" Malcolm prodded in a light hearted manner.

"You promise you won't laugh?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Now you know I can't promise anything of the sort," Malcolm grinned. Draco groaned and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling to gather his wits.

"I admit I was somewhat a pain. My father was on the school's Board of Governors so I was… prideful and I used that opportunity for my own gain. There was a rivalry between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses and the Weasleys and I did not get along at all from the beginning. I hated Harry Potter and his stupid little gaggle of friends. Always 'saving the day' and stealing the House Cup out from under our noses… It was all stupid now that I look back on it but it doesn't change the fact that we all still hate each other. Granger was always stealing attention because she was _soooo_ smart and Weasley and Potter couldn't stand me so, erm, I returned the favor," Draco told him, feeling a bit of past rivalry flaring in his blood as he remembered those years before Lord Voldemort took over his life.

"Were you ever in the wrong?" Malcolm asked.

Draco's lips thinned.

"Sometimes."

Malcolm's eyebrow rose to indicate he wasn't accepting that answer. Draco rolled his eyes heavily.

"Ugh, fine. _Most_ of the time," he grumbled. "I wasn't a very good person back then."

Satisfied with that answer, Malcolm nodded for him to continue.

"So if they inform you that Granger slapped me in the face once or that Professor Moody conducted an illegal curse on me to turn me into a ferret, that's because I might have been, er, rude on occasion," Draco finished, swallowing hard and waiting for judgment.

Malcolm's chest tightened in a controlled effort not to laugh. He succeeded… barely.

"Anything else?" he managed to force out of his mouth with reasonable control.

Draco thought about it for a little longer.

"I regularly tried to get them all expelled. And I called Weasley's mother fat on a fairly regular basis," he admitted with a slight sniff.

"You were a trip down Asshole Lane, weren't you?" Malcolm teased him.

Draco frowned but managed to give a jerky sort of nod.

"Well, Draco, this has been nice but I must be going now," Malcolm said, standing up and pulling some pants on.

Draco looked like he had been hit in the head with a blunt hammer.

"What?" he asked, wide-eyed and clenching the bed sheets.

Malcolm shrugged.

"I'm going to live at George's joke shop, duh. I can't be with someone who has had such embarrassing things happen to him," Malcolm told him and finished buttoning up his shirt. "Like I said, it's been swell knowing you."

"You… You're joking! Right?!" Draco's jaw hung open, looking angry and confused.

Malcolm smiled and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"_Yes_ I am joking. Honestly, do you think I'm _that_ silly? I'm starving. Put some clothes on and come downstairs, will you?" Malcolm told him with a wink and skipped out of the room before Draco could curse him.

"_Malcolm! I swear to Merlin_-" and the rest of Draco's shrill verbal outrage was lost as Malcolm ran down the stairs as quickly as he could.


	50. Chapter 50

"Hello, lovely," Malcolm said as Draco walked into the dining room.

"Ah, so now you're trying to be sweet," Draco drawled as if he were merely commenting on the weather. He marched stoically past Malcolm without looking at him.

Malcolm sighed and came up behind Draco before he could sit down, wrapping his arms around Draco's middle and pressing his lips to the back of his neck. Draco waited patiently for what might come next like he was bored.

"I adore you. You know that, right?" Malcolm said in his ear. His warm breath tickled Draco's skin.

Draco shrugged.

"Come on… Don't be dramatic, sweet cheeks. I was just messing around-" Malcolm insisted, moving gently from side to side on his heels and Draco leaned his head back against Malcolm's shoulder. He let himself be rocked to and fro in the comforting embrace.

"I know. It still doesn't make you any less of an arse," Draco snorted but reached for Malcolm's hand. Malcolm squeezed his fingers in assurance.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to make a point that I don't care what you were like a decade ago. We are both here now and I don't give a flying rat's ass what people are going to say about you. It's not like I'm going to suddenly be a vapid tosser," Malcolm chuckled.

Draco smirked and Malcolm kissed his neck.

"Of course you won't. I buy you clothes and feed you. Only a madman would throw that away," Draco said flippantly.

"Spot on, chap. You are my sugar daddy," Malcolm teased him.

Draco snorted appreciatively.

"I don't know what a 'sugar daddy' is but I can make a decent guess based on this conversation," Draco replied.

"Oh? What is your guess?" Malcolm grinned.

Draco, still being rocked back and forth, analyzed the new term seriously before speaking.

"I'd say it has something to do with desserts. Like when we have dinner and I allow you to eat chocolate cake _first_ instead of telling you it will spoil your appetite like most parents. Thus I am a 'sugar daddy' because I'm not a parental figure but, since I own this house, I alone can give you permission to eat chocolate cake whenever you want," Draco explained with an air of intellectual authority.

Malcolm bit down hard on his lip to muffle his glee at hearing this definition of a 'sugar daddy'.

"I'd say that's close enough," Malcolm replied. Draco nodded, satisfied that he was correct.

"Do you want chocolate cake now or do you want to wait for dessert?" Draco asked, breaking away and sitting down at the head of the table.

"Let's wait for dessert," Malcolm smiled innocently at Draco as he took his seat.

Draco nodded and smiled back.


	51. Chapter 51

Later that evening, Malcolm wrote back to Hermione and his mother (whom he had been inadvertently neglecting a reply). Satisfied, Malcolm and Draco lounged in front of the fire discussing the International Statute of Secrecy at Malcolm's insistence.

"So I can't tell Mum about unicorns or flying broomsticks?" Malcolm asked for clarification. Draco shook his head.

"No. I'm sure _she_ would think you were being cheeky but most wizards don't want to take any chance of being found out. You could be slapped with all sorts of fines and legal codswallop if you gave away any secrets of our world to regular Muggles," Draco explained. "They might even bring you up on charges of violating an International Treaty."

"So I shouldn't have mentioned to her I was floating on the ceiling? I don't see any harm in telling her a few minor things… Honestly, she's only going to think I was high when I wrote that letter," Malcolm argued.

Draco slapped a hand to his forehead.

"_Why_ would you tell your mother something like that if you know she's going to think you are high?" Draco grumbled. "She's going to blame _me_ for being a bad influence!"

"You don't know my Mum. She will take it as me enjoying myself!" Malcolm said. "I have her approval to experience the finer points of life without her hassling me every day. Well, as long as I don't kick the bucket. Those are her limits. The rest of the letter is somewhat reasonable so I don't know why you are upset."

Draco sighed.

"_Reasonable?_… Ugh. Don't tell anyone _anything_ else!"

Malcolm pursed his lips as he was reprimanded and crossed his arms over his chest.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to argue back, a flood of owls swooped through the open window and collided into Malcolm's head.

"AGH!" he screamed, spitting out feathers and swatting at the air. Draco leapt backward in shock at the interruption and fell on his butt, wand ready to use any useful spells to save his life.

The owls stopped flapping their wings and shuffled for a spot as close to (or on) Malcolm's knees as they could manage. Red-faced and eyes watering, Malcolm picked a tiny white feather off his lip and massaged his aching head.

"_What the fuck_!" Malcolm shrieked. The owls fluttered their wings and looked up expectantly, eyes wide and hooting softly.

Draco lowered his wand and snorted with laughter at the visage of Malcolm's disheveled hair and a small army of owls growing impatient for him to retrieve the letters attached to their legs.

"Go on. Open them," Draco urged him.

Malcolm snatched a letter angrily from the tiniest owl, which then hooted happily and began flying around his head in triumph. As Malcolm read, he relaxed and became visibly excited by its contents.

"It's from Ron. He says that Uncle Arthur told Aunt Molly about me and everyone wants me to come around for supper tomorrow!" Malcolm said and opened another letter. "Same thing, except this one is from George. And this one is from Uncle Arthur and Bill. They wrote to tell me that Aunt Molly took the news well… er, cried a bit… and she really wants to meet me!"

Draco nodded warily as if he were expecting the news. He looked unsure of himself as he took his seat next to Malcolm again with a strained smile on his face.

"Hey now, you can come too!" Malcolm assured him and thrust the letters into his lap as an invitation.

Draco violently shook his head.

"Oh! No. No, that is _not_ a good idea-"

"Well… how am I going to get over there? I don't know where to go," Malcolm insisted, looking slightly sad at Draco's refusal.

Draco's lips thinned. He was stuck. He couldn't very well send Malcolm by Floo Network all by himself with no guarantee that he would arrive safely at the Weasley's family home. Malcolm couldn't operate a flying broom to his lack of magic. And Draco wasn't sure himself to give directions to the place through Muggle means because he himself did not understand how that worked.

_Who do these people think I am? A traveling agency? The Squib-Express?_

Draco groaned and bit the bullet.

"Fine," he growled in his most unpleasant manner. "I'll take you. But I am _not_ hanging around!"

"AWESOME! I _love_ you! You are the best!" Malcolm exclaimed and attacked Draco with a flurry of giddy kisses.

Malcolm shot up and swiped at the owls to make them leave. They all hooted angrily and took off into the sunset. Malcolm slammed the window shut and ran up the stairs to Draco's room (commandeered as his own now) to put the letters in a safe place.

Draco leaned back and pressed his hand against his cheek where Malcolm had kissed him, shell shocked as Malcolm's words repeated themselves in his head.

_I love you._

He felt a tiny stab of fear shoot through his veins, rooting him to the spot. He listened intently to Malcolm's happy whistling wafting down to the lower levels of the manor. Then Draco felt the stab of fear subside as something new began to take its place… a tiny flicker of warmth began to spread slowly through his chest, beginning in his belly and traveling up to his heart.

Malcolm singing… his weird sense of humor, his big goofy grin. Even the way Malcolm looked at Draco. Of course Malcolm loved him. It was obvious now.

_Do I love him? Is this really happening?_

Draco suspected he did. Even though he was somewhat frightened by the prospect of the unknown, he suddenly felt… peace. It was a foreign feeling but he decided to officially welcome it.

"What are you whistling?" Draco called up the stairs.

"I Put A Spell On You," Malcolm replied.

"No you didn't," Draco said, frowning in confusion. He looked down at his own body and splayed his fingers across his stomach checking for signs of damage.

"It's the title of a song," Malcolm chuckled and poked his head over the banister to smile at Draco.

"Ah. Strange subject for Muggle music, don't you think?" Draco smirked back.

"Har har har!" Malcolm said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. They both laughed.


	52. Chapter 52

**I AM SO SORRY. I HAVE BEEN SUPER BUSY. MY GRANDFATHER HAD A STROKE AND I'VE BEEN WORKING LIKE CRAZY SO IT HASN'T BEEN THE BEST WEEK. HE IS GETTING BETTER THOUGH AND WORK LOOKS LIKE IT IS GOING TO CALM DOWN A BIT SO I WILL HAVE MORE TIME TO WRITE IN THE NEAR FUTURE. AGAIN, MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES. I ALSO APOLOGIZE IF THIS CHAPTER ISN'T AS EXCITING OR FUNNY AS I'M STILL A TINY BIT DISTRACTED AND COULDN'T CONCENTRATE ON WRITING A SUPER LONG OR DETAILED CHAPTER ABOUT MALCOLM AND DRACO'S FUTURE ADVENTURE TO THE BURROW SO THIS IS A BIT OF SIDE BANTER. BEST I COULD COME UP WITH RIGHT NOW :/**

The following day was uneventful -if one discounted Malcolm's less than sly attempt to smuggle a jarvey he had unwittingly captured from the garden into the house when Draco was upstairs taking a bath. He sustained a few small bite wounds and a vicious looking scratch across his cheek which Draco mended with a bored flourish of his wand.

"I don't know why you insist on it," Draco drawled as Malcolm rubbed his nipped fingers gingerly with a sheepish and disappointed look on his face.

"I want one," Malcolm insisted with a frown. "Do you know how many people would give their limbs just to have a jarvey? It talks!"

"Oh yeah? You almost did lose your limbs. It doesn't hold any meaningful conversations either. It _insults_-"

"That's the cool part," Malcolm said with a wistful glance out of the window.

Draco shook his head slowly and patted Malcolm consolingly on the back.

"If you say so."

Malcolm followed Draco to the living room a bit dejectedly but in otherwise in good spirits.

"Are you going to teach me how to play Exploding Snap?" Malcolm asked. Draco nodded and pulled down a box of cards from a shelf and gestured for them to take a seat facing each other on the floor with a business-like air.

Draco began dealing out the cards with his brow furrowed in concentration.

"You okay?" Malcolm asked. Draco gave a jerky sort of shrug and swallowed with difficulty, not looking up.

"Fine. I was just thinking about… er, what you said. Last night," he added for clarity. Color began rising to his cheeks and he grimaced.

"Does stuff like that really bother you?" Malcolm asked in a small, wary voice.

Draco finished dealing out the cards and sat back stiffly.

"No," he shook his head. "I think I should tell you, though. I don't know how to- I mean, I'm not all too experienced with dating or relationships."

Malcolm smiled warmly. He felt a little better.

"I know that. It's pretty obvious," he said and nudged Draco's leg with his foot. Draco looked up at him and sighed.

"I only ever dated Pansy. I wasn't even attracted to her."

Malcolm frowned.

"Wait. So you've never been in a normal relationship? … Ever?" Malcolm asked. Curiosity and confusion exploded in his brain.

"Well, no. It's not like I've never done other things," Draco mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "You know… when I get too lonely or whatever. But _this_ is new territory." He gestured weakly at Malcolm who was staring wide-eyed at him.

"Good god, man. You aren't lying, are you?" Malcolm whispered in awe. Draco's skin flushed like he was on fire and stared determinedly at the playing cards. They had begun to smoke slightly on the edges.

"I figured you didn't do a _lot_ of dating holed up in this place but it never crossed my mind that you have literally _never_ had a boyfriend," Malcolm continued. "I must have really freaked you out with the whole 'love' thing then, huh?"

Draco's brows furrowed and he bit his lip. He shook his head slowly in disagreement.

"No. I just haven't had anyone tell me that before and it feels… nice. But it also feels weird at the same time. Does that make any sense?" he asked.

Malcolm's brown eyes lit up and he nodded in understanding.

"This is all starting to make complete sense, yes. Finally! Now I know why you're so tight lipped sometimes. Not that I mind," he added reassuringly. "But since we are on the topic of gooey feeling stuff, I want you to know that I'm not just messing around with you. You are the coolest person I've ever met- not even including the magic stuff. And you are intelligent, witty, pretty, sarcastic, and-"

Draco wrinkled his nose and scoffed.

"What?" Malcolm demanded.

"_Pretty_? Seriously? Don't be stupid! How insulting!" Draco rolled his eyes condescendingly.

"Okay… I'll use the word 'handsome' instead if you can't stand it but 'pretty' is a better word for you, hands down," Malcolm threw his hands up in the air.

"I'm not pretty," Draco huffed.

"Sure, you're _obviously_ a bloke. I'm not saying you're a girl or anything!" Malcolm laughed. "But you are a damn sight better looking than mere 'handsome'. Handsome is for rugged guys with square jaws and curly chest hairs. Pretty is what you've got- impeccable style, sharp features and gorgeous eyes. I could look at you all day and never get bored."

Draco squirmed uncomfortably and then the entire pack of un-played cards between them exploded with a loud BANG!

"_Holy shit_!" Malcolm shouted and scrambled backward.

With a measure of calculated indifference, Draco waited for the smoke to clear and gathered the cards together again to shuffle them again.

"Don't call me pretty. I much prefer 'gorgeous' anyhow," Draco smirked.

"How about I call you Honey?"

"No."

"Darling?"

"Never."

"Pudding?"

"Just shut up and take the damn cards!"


	53. Chapter 53

Malcolm smoothed down his new robes and paced in front of the fireplace waiting impatiently for Draco to join him. Malcolm wanted to get there before everyone else arrived at the Burrow so he could say hello to his aunt Molly with a modicum of peace.

"Oy! Pretty boy! Put down the hair gel and let's get this show on the road, eh?!" he yelled up the stairs, feeling jittery. After all of the anticipation and excitement of discovering his family, he was suddenly getting nervous. He kept running his fingers through his hair and clenching his fists to stop his fingers from twitching.

Draco, on the other hand, was taking a private moment to calm his own nerves. He stood in his bedroom clutching the door handle taking deep breaths. He looked over at the mirror above his dresser and recognized the familiar terror etched into his features, wide-eyed and colorless cheeks.

_I must be insane. _Then Draco shook his head to clear it. _I'm just making sure he gets there alright. I'm not staying. This is not a big deal! It's just the fucking Weasleys, for Merlin's sake._

But the feeling of needing to vomit still hadn't gone away. He supposed it never would. Taking one last deep breath and jerking his head high, he slung open the door and smartly marched down to the fireplace in the living room.

"How do I look?" Malcolm asked as he spread his arms wide.

"Decent," Draco said. He had a feeling if he opened his mouth too much, he would lose the battle with his churning stomach.

Malcolm nodded as if he already knew this.

"Are you hyperventilating?" Malcolm asked, bending to look into Draco's eyes with concern- his own nervousness temporarily forgotten.

Draco shook his head sharply. Malcolm wasn't falling for it and pulled Draco against him.

"It will be fine, you will see."

Draco let Malcolm kiss his cheek and rub his shoulders assuringly. He continued his stubborn silence with the air of someone still expecting the absolute worst.

"Okay. First we need to establish ground rules," Malcolm murmured. "Don't start anything. Don't speak unless spoken to. No insults. No blowing anyone up or turning anybody into gerbils… whatever."

"Can't promise anything," Draco muttered ruefully.

"Oh _good_. This is going to be fun. Let's stop prolonging the inevitable then, shall we?" Malcolm sighed. Draco tossed a handful of green powder into the fireplace and the flames turned a bright flickering green.

Malcolm held on to Draco's arm for dear life and clenched his eyes shut.

"The Burrow!" Draco said loudly and they were both pulled into the sickening whirl wind of the Floo Network as they shot past hundreds of fireplaces. Malcolm, through sheer grit, managed not to howl or throw up this time.

It wasn't long before Malcolm and Draco came to an abrupt halt. Malcolm felt his feet slam onto a hard surface and he stumbled forward, pulling Draco with him.

"Mum! He's here!" came an excited voice. Draco snapped his spine to full height and helped Malcolm to his feet. Malcolm opened his eyes and stared around at the cramped and cozy little living room. A beautiful woman with bright red hair, sporting a small baby bump, smiled brightly at Malcolm and held out her hand.

"Ginny Potter. Harry is my husband, you've met him before," she told him and Malcolm took her hand.

"Nice bloke you've got there. Pleased to meet you," he said warmly.

"Pleased to meet you as well. Mum is on her way," she told him kindly. "I'm just warning you, she has been a bit emotional since Dad gave her the news."

"Understandable."

Ginny spared Draco an unreadable glance and nodded her head. He gave her a short and haughty jerk of his head in response. Malcolm supposed he was attempting to be polite and felt a nervous urge to laugh.

Suddenly a short and stout woman with frizzy red hair appeared from the kitchen. She clutched a towel in her hand so hard her knuckles had turned white. Ginny backed over to the corner next to Draco, both of them looking rapidly between Malcolm and Mrs. Weasley. She stared at Malcolm for what seemed like ages before he decided to break the tension.

"Hello, Aunt Molly," he said. Her lips trembled at the sound of his voice and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stop them. Her brown eyes were wide and started to glisten. She sniffed and walked toward him, gaze never once leaving his face.

"You look just like him," she whispered finally. Her voice broke a little but she reached up and pushed his hair behind his ear like a mother would. "Could do with a tr-trim, dear."

Malcolm threw his head back and laughed. Molly burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Malcolm, grinning, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed tightly.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. Neither Malcolm nor Molly noticed… but Ginny did. She smacked the back of his blonde head and glared at him.

"Ouch!" he hissed. Ginny raised an eyebrow and Draco decided it best to pretend nothing had happened.

"I'm just finishing up dinner-" Molly said, wiping her eyes on the towel still clutched in her hands.

"We would be happy to help," Malcolm said and gestured to Draco.

"Oh no," Draco held up his hands. "I'm not staying-"

"Nonsense," Molly interrupted him. "You are sitting down with the rest of the family to eat. You both look peckish."

Draco looked as if he were about to argue but Ginny pinched his elbow warningly. Malcolm looked over at Draco hopefully and Draco felt an urge to scream and stamp his feet in refusal… which he quelled at the sight of Molly with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Everyone will be here in a few minutes. Andromeda is bringing Teddy. I'm sure she would appreciate seeing her nephew," Molly said and pointed a finger at Draco. Then she looked up lovingly at Malcolm and let him lead her into the kitchen with an arm around her shoulder.

"Your aunt is coming?" Malcolm looked over his shoulder with the question etched into his face.

"I didn't know," Draco suddenly looked frightened.

"Keep walking," Ginny demanded and poked a finger in Draco's back to keep him moving.

"That's right, cousin. Keep him in line," Malcolm teased.

Ginny smiled sweetly.

"I'm on it."

"I can hear you. I am _right here_, you know," Draco growled.

"Hush."

Draco snapped his mouth shut, looking livid at this treatment.


	54. Chapter 54

Malcolm loved the Burrow. It was unlike any place he had ever been in before. Draco's manor was spacious and beautifully built but it was stark in contrast to the obviously magical dwelling he was currently perusing with fascination. He couldn't stop himself from touching everything, including picking up a clock off the table he was sure was the funniest object he had ever encountered.

"It looks like a clock and it's shaped like a clock but it's got so many hands! How do you tell the time? It just tells you where people are. I've got to say, this is genius!" Malcolm exclaimed and thrust it beneath Draco's nose. Draco pushed it away and crossed his arms, staring determinedly at the opposite wall. Ginny had her wand laying on the table pointed at Draco and he sniffed, refusing to look anywhere in her direction. Ginny seemed pleased by this.

Molly flicked her wand at a cutting board and a knife began to slice carrots without any help. Each time she looked over at Malcolm, now pulling magical household remedy books off the shelf to read the covers, it was a gaze of awe and sadness.

"I wish I would have known," she would mumble and each time Malcolm would shrug and say "Not your fault, Aunt Molly. I'm here now." Then she would smile and bustle about the kitchen.

"Can I go now?" Draco grumbled after a few minutes and made to stand up. Ginny poked her wand into his ribs and he grimaced, looking down at her with an accusing glare. He took his seat again carefully.

"No, please stay," Ginny smiled threateningly, clearly enjoying her task.

"I don't know what _you're_ getting out of this-" Draco hissed.

"A lot, actually," she whispered back. "Remember all those times you insulted my home and my family? I do. Now you're going to sit down and have a pleasant dinner with us."

"This is black mail!" he spat. Ginny shrugged her shoulders and Draco reached for his wand. It was gone.

"Looking for this?" she whispered and twirled Draco's wand between her fingers. Draco leaned forward with a groan and buried his head in his arms.

"A girl must be quick and stealthy to play for the Holyhead Harpies," Ginny sang aloud. Draco remembered that she did play for the professional Quidditch League for a few years and felt his eye twitch.

"You okay, Draco?" Malcolm called out.

"Fine!" he grunted. His voice was muffled because his face was pressed flat against the table.

"I'm teaching him how to play nice," Ginny said innocently. Malcolm chuckled and patted Draco consolingly on the back.

"It will all be over soon," Malcolm crooned.

Draco mumbled something that sounded "Fucking harpie" and sighed miserably. He was lucky Molly was intently focused on preparing dinner for an army of people and didn't hear him. Ginny flicked his ear and Malcolm looked down at the 'clock' he still carried around in his arms like a child's teddy bear.

"Oh look! It says George and Ron are traveling," Malcolm exclaimed and flipped the clock over to study the back of it, as if it would help him understand how the 'clock' worked.

Draco jerked his head up and scowled.

"_Great_. And you people expect me to lounge here like a sitting duck without my wand-"

"Exactly," Ginny cut him off. "Ron won't curse you unless you curse him… maybe. He hasn't been told you're here, obviously, so I can't promise anything."

"Oh I'm sure he will think this is_ a wonderful little reunion_!" Draco's voice was getting higher pitched.

"Ronald is not going to curse you," Molly said with finality as she busied herself dropping onions into a pot.

"Who am I cursing?" came a voice from the door. Ron strode in with George behind him and they both pecked their mother on the cheek.

"Nobody," Molly said threateningly. Ron's face scrunched up in confusion for being reprimanded for something he hadn't planned on doing and he looked around. He immediately saw Malcolm and turned back to Molly. Hermione came in and dropped an arm full of parchment and books in a chair with a business-like air.

"I hope you don't mind if I work while I eat, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. Molly shook her head and busied herself stirring the contents of a saucepan.

"Why would I curse Malcolm?" Ron asked.

George was the one who saw Draco sitting tensely at the table in the corner seat and his face lit up with mischief.

"Look what the cat dragged in! Excellent!" he said clapped his hands together. Then he winked at Malcolm who grinned back.

Draco looked as if he wanted to throw up.

"You aren't going to curse _me_. She's talking about Draco," Malcolm said helpfully.

"What?" Ron spluttered and whirled around. Hermione, realizing suddenly what was going on and sensing immediate danger, deftly snagged the wand out of Ron's hand to prevent any damage.

Complete and utter silence thundered around them (except for George's gleeful snickering). Ron stared dumbly at Draco with his jaw hanging open and Draco stared mutinously back.

"I wish Fred could see this," George broke the silence and leaned against the door frame.

"Sorry, got held up at work," Harry said as he walked into the room. He stopped short and looked at Ron. Then he looked at who Ron was looking at and fell silent.

"_Has everyone gone mental_?!" Ron suddenly blustered and threw his hands up in the air.

"I think it's nice," Malcolm commented happily. Ginny covered her mouth to stifle laughter.

"Yes, everyone here obviously belongs in St. Mungo's," Draco snarled.

"Now, I will not have fighting in this house," Molly said and gave both of them quelling looks. "Both of you _sit down_ and leave each other alone."

"I'm _already sitting_. Against my will, I might add!" Draco snapped. Then he cowered under Molly's fiery gaze and looked down at the bare table gritting his teeth. Ron stormed out of the room muttering colorful phrases with a red face and Hermione looked over apologetically at Malcolm and hurried after him. Harry gave Malcolm a small wave, looked quizzically at Draco (who was refusing now to look at anyone) and then followed Ron and Hermione into the living room.

"Mental!" they all heard echo from the next room.

"Boys, go outside and set up the table for dinner. We have more people coming and all of us can't fit in here," Molly pointed a knife at George.

George lifted his hands in the air and backed out of the door dramatically. Malcolm followed. Draco stood up and held his hand for his wand. Ginny frowned and shook her head.

"Do you seriously think I'm going to leave now? I think I _will_ stay, thank you," Draco drawled, lip curling into a smile with a small glance at the living room.

Ginny gave his a mistrustful look but handed him his wand. Pocketing it, Draco bowed mockingly and swaggered past Molly out of the door. The table lifted by itself and hovered out of the back door followed by several chairs and stools.

"I wish I could make tables fly!" Malcolm exclaimed excitedly.

"Such a sweet boy," Molly commented absently. Ginny patted her mother's hand and went into the living room to find Harry.


	55. Chapter 55

"Pass the salt, please," Draco said to Ron.

Ron's nose wrinkled and he gave Draco a look that could kill.

"Get your own salt," he growled and stabbed viciously at a cooked carrot on his plate. Draco smirked and leaned back regally in his chair.

"Mrs. Weasley… Ron won't pass the salt," Draco said loudly.

"Ronald!" Molly said warningly.

Ron snatched at the salt shaker and deposited it with a deafening _thunk_ that made Draco's silverware rattle.

"Thank you," Draco said smugly.

He was obviously relishing the effect he created as he happily sprinkled the seasoning on his stewed potatoes. Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his conversation with Ginny.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" Draco continued.

Malcolm nodded, watching the exchange with curiosity. Draco took a slow bite as he looked up at the stars twinkling above them.

"Harry!"

A small boy with shocking purple hair was tumbling across the yard toward them. Harry barely had time to turn around in his seat before the boy flung his arms around Harry's neck.

"Hi, Teddy," Harry greeted him with a small hug.

"Guess what, Harry!"

"What?" Harry asked with a smile broadening on his face.

"Grandma says we're going to the Quidditch World Cup!" he said, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Is that so?" Harry asked him with an unmistakable wink at Ginny. She grinned back.

Teddy nodded and caught sight of Draco. He stared wide-eyed at him for a moment and Draco had a curiously bewildered expression on his face. Then Teddy squeezed his eyes shut hard. Right before Malcolm thought the kid might lay a large egg right there on the lawn, there was a small grunt and the purple hair on his head turned a shining white blonde. Draco nearly tumbled out of his seat in shock. Malcolm was overcome with admiration and he began clapping. Everyone started laughing and Ron slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Show off," Harry said and Teddy giggled. He ran around the table and took an empty spot next to Draco.

"Hi! What's your name?" he piped up. Draco cringed as far as he could away from him until he was almost sitting in Malcolm's chair, staring at the kid with a horrified expression on his face. Malcolm was still laughing.

"My name is Teddy. I haven't seen_ you_ before. Do you like salamanders? I have a pet salamander. His name is Gary-" Teddy began babbling at Draco, seeing as Draco was apparently not participating in this conversation due to pure shock.

Hermione lifted her nose out of her notes and grinned at Ron, who was coming around enough to look somewhat pleased as the tide turned.

"I always liked that kid," he could be heard telling everyone.

But Teddy only had eyes for Draco as he chatted nonstop about Gary the Salamander.

"You are seriously _freaking me out_," Draco said in a strangled voice with a large gulp. Teddy gave him a somber look as Molly spooned food onto his plate.

"When Garry gets freaked out he sets on fire," Teddy nodded as if he understood how Draco felt. Draco's jaw dropped in horror and Malcolm gave Teddy a thumbs up.

"Teddy, leave your cousin alone for a minute so he can finish eating," said a low voice. A tall woman with dark hair and heavy lidded eyes was settling down next to Molly.

Draco looked even more horror struck by her presence. Andromeda gave him a haughty nod of the head and turned her attention to Molly who was asking how she was. Malcolm gave in and felt for Draco's hand under the table. The tight grip he received back told him everything he needed to know.

But he was still having the greatest time he had ever had in his entire life.


	56. Chapter 56

A few minutes later, they were graced with more people arriving late for dinner. Arthur showed up followed by Percy, Bill, Fleur and Victoire.

"Got held up at the office. Biting gloves," he said by way of explanation to Molly with a weary sigh.

"Zere was so much to do," Fleur said apologetically and Molly kissed them all on the cheek. Bill placed Victoire at the table next to Teddy's other side and he and Fleur took empty seats beside Ron and Hermione.

"Good to see you again, Malcolm," Bill said kindly. He smiled with heavily scarred lips and Fleur snapped her fingers warningly at the two children, who were just starting to squabble with each other at the table. Draco was watching Teddy and Victoire with wary glances, still sitting sideways on his chair.

Malcolm reached over and shook his hand.

Suddenly, several conversations erupted at once. It was hard for Malcolm to follow or keep up with any of them. Andromeda moved around the table and sat in Teddy's seat, placing him in her lap. She inclined her head to speak to Draco who looked like he would give anything in the world to disappear at that moment. But Malcolm couldn't pay attention as he suddenly heard the words "Charlie" and "dragons". He whipped his head around and Ron pointed a finger.

"He could help!" Ron was saying as if an idea had struck him. George nodded and opened his mouth before he was cut off by Hermione.

"Honestly, do you really think that's appropriate? He has no idea-"

"Hermione! Let the man speak for himself," George chortled and leaned over to Malcolm.

"Do you want a job?"

Ron and George were watching him intently. Malcolm looked over at Draco but he was immersed in a tense conversation with Andromeda.

"Harry?" Hermione looked over at him for help.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and tried flattening his untidy hair again.

"I suppose that's up to Malcolm," he said, pushing up his glasses. Hermione rolled her eyes and buried her nose back in her notes.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said and patted her on the leg sympathetically.

"What kind of job?" Malcolm asked curiously.

"At the joke shop, of course! You could be our tester," Ron explained.

"It's not _too_ dangerous. If you still have all of your fingers after, you can even man the cash wrap. What do you say?" George asked.

Malcolm's jaw dropped.

"Absolutely! When can I start?" he answered.

"Any time, really. I know I'll be glad when I can sit properly again," George sighed, gazing wistfully off into space.

"I don't suppose you have to get permission from your _boyfriend_, do you?" Ron asked sarcastically with narrowed eyes at the side of Draco's head.

Ginny and Hermione popped up to look at each other meaningfully and then they both looked away quickly.

"No," Malcolm shook his head.

Satisfied, Ron nodded his head and reached across the table. He shook hands with Malcolm, sealing the deal.

"So it's on, then?" George snapped back to reality.

Malcolm grinned.

"Oh, it's _on_."


	57. Chapter 57

"Well, Draco… I'm happy to hear that Cissy is doing alright. Let her know that I've been thinking about her," Andromeda said and stood up abruptly, leaving Teddy to scramble back into his spot next to Draco. Draco looked over at Malcolm for help but Malcolm was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Ron and George and wasn't paying him any attention.

"Do you know how to fly on a broom stick? I do. Grandma lets me do whatever I want!" Teddy happily started chatting him up again.

Draco wrinkled his nose and looked at Teddy sideways.

"I highly doubt that," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He wished somebody else would talk to him besides this little kid who mocked him with his own hair color. Then, with a jolt, he noticed the tiny little girl named Victoire staring at him over Teddy's shoulder. Unnerved, he rubbed his eyes and took a deep gulp of pumpkin juice.

"Well not _whatever_ I want. So did you fly here?" Teddy continued to badger him.

"No I didn't. But I would bet one thousand galleons I'm a better flier than you. I was on the Slytherin Quidditch Team at Hogwarts. I doubt you even handle the broom properly," Draco drawled.

_I can't believe I'm stuck here having a conversation with a seven year old. I'd pay Ron to pick a fight with me right now._

Teddy's eyes went wide with wonder.

"Whoa! What position did you play?" Teddy asked excitedly.

Draco sighed.

"Seeker," he said.

"I tried to teach Gary to fly once. Grandma got mad at me because the broom got all burned up," Teddy said excitedly.

"Is that so?" Draco replied in a bored voice. Teddy nodded frantically.

"It was really cool! He sparked like fireworks! Do you like fireworks? I do. I think they are cool," Teddy babbled again and shoved a fork full of roasted potatoes in his mouth.

"How ironic. And to know you are Remus Lupin's son..."

Teddy grinned, showing off a mouthful of chewed food.

"My daddy was brave. That's what everybody tells me. Did you know my daddy?" Teddy asked, looking up at Draco in expectation.

Draco felt his insides clench as he looked down at Teddy. Draco felt an unwelcome burning sensation behind his eyes and he had to look away.

"He… he taught one of my classes. I didn't know him that well," Draco mumbled and stuffed carrots into his mouth to have something to do with his hands.

"Come on- I want to show you Gary," Teddy suddenly hopped off his chair, tugging at Draco's elbow. Draco looked around wildly but, unluckily, nobody put a stop to him. Andromeda's eyebrows rose but she only watched.

"What?!" he hissed. Teddy giggled and tugged harder. Draco was dragged unwillingly out of his seat wondering why on earth he couldn't bring himself to petrify the little boy into blissful silence.

Malcolm looked over at Draco as he slouched out of his seat, being dragged away by the sleeve of his robe.

"Where are you going?" Malcolm whispered. Several people were now paying attention and Draco wanted dearly to crawl under the table.

If Draco had ears like a dog, they would have been drooping in irritation.

"Going to set a salamander on fire," he grumbled and was frog marched back toward the house. He heard guffaws and giggles from the table as he was led away by the excitable Teddy and his ears started burning.


	58. Chapter 58

An hour later, Draco had still not returned to the table in the yard. Little Victoire had fallen asleep in her seat and Molly was passing around large pieces of homemade treacle tart. Malcolm politely made his excuses (partly to escape Arthur's interrogation of his Muggle life) and set off to find Draco and Teddy… hoping neither of them had met their demise while everyone else was heartily filling their bellies with Molly's cooking.

As he trotted up to the brightly lit house, Harry turned to Ron and muttered "What do you think?" Hermione and Ginny perked up. Everyone else's attention was distracted by Bill and Percy having an exceedingly nitpicky conversation about the current governmental issues with the Goblin Liason.

Ron nodded.

"He's definitely alright. I still don't _get it_, though. Why is he hanging out with Draco? Better yet, why hasn't Draco drowned him in his bathwater? He's a Squib!" he said. "It's maddening. And what was Mum thinking, inviting the slimy git to actually sit down with the family?"

Hermione sighed and closed her notes. They all looked at her in expectation.

"I think it's all very simple," she began.

Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"We all remember how horrible Malfoy was when we were younger. But think about all of the things that happened afterward. His entire world flipped around and he was left to pick up the pieces. I don't know what possessed Malfoy to actually reach out to Malcolm but I bet it has something to do with curiosity. I assume he wanted to see what all of the fuss was about and he probably highly considered Obliviating Malcolm's memories- until they found out he was a Squib. By then, they probably… bonded. Of course, Malcolm is highly intelligent and perhaps forced the friendship because he knew he was on shaky ground-"

Ron and Harry couldn't hide their grins.

"What?" Hermione asked. Ginny looked interested too.

"I'm not sure how intelligent you think he is but it sounds to me he's been bumbling his way through all of this-" Ron said delicately.

"Trust me, he knows what he's doing," Ginny said.

"He does. He's silly, alright. And… easily amused. But he has sharp eyes. He studies people, haven't you noticed?" Hermione asked as if it were obvious.

"He does seem to be able to, I don't know, _work_ people. He plays the innocent thing very well. I noticed when he first found me at the Ministry but I couldn't pinpoint it then. I knew he was exaggerating several times- like when he asked me for a 'comment card'. He knew there was no such thing but he was basically trying to butter me up to continue helping him. Do you think there's something, well, wrong with him?" Harry asked, looking unsure.

"There's nothing wrong with Malcolm. He's just a people reader. He probably understands Malfoy very well, actually. If he managed to get this far without being poisoned, I'd say he's at least more intelligent than he puts on. I think it's fascinating," Ginny said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"I'm going to go talk to him," Harry said. Ron got up too and followed him back to the house.

"How long do you think it will be before the house collapses?" Ginny wondered aloud after a few minutes.

"Give it a minute. I'm sure Malfoy and Ron are just warming up," Hermione said blithely and pulled her notes out again.

When Malcolm walked into the living room, he found Draco lounging on the threadbare couch.

"Where is Teddy?" Malcolm asked. Draco pointed a thumb over his shoulder and Malcolm saw the boy curled up in an arm chair by the fireplace with a slightly smoking salamander clasped in his hands. Teddy's tiny mouth was hanging open as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of talking. Malcolm wouldn't doubt it. But he looked unharmed and Draco seemed to be in a pleasant mood.

"Is everything… okay?" Malcolm asked. Draco looked up at him and nodded slowly, tiredly.

"Yes, Malcolm. We are both alive and both in good health. I didn't think he would ever shut up but I persuaded him to sit still for a second while I told him stories about playing Quidditch. I guess he got bored and dozed off… Not that I'm complaining," Draco added in a whisper, taking a wary sideways look at the sleeping Teddy. "We played a game of toss and, well, I think the lizard gave up on being frightened and is just smoking slightly now."

"It's a salamander," Malcolm corrected him.

"Whatever," Draco waved his hand.

"His name is Gary."

"Lovely," Draco drawled in a bored voice. "Are we leaving any time soon?"

Malcolm squirmed.

"Actually, I was hoping it would be alright to stay a bit longer. I kind of like it here," Malcolm whispered pleadingly.

Draco looked him over with an unreadable expression.

"I suppose I will find a bedroom in this hovel and put the child to bed, then," he said and stood up. He carefully gathered Teddy in his arms and carried the boy, still blonde and clutching a smoking salamander, up the tiny and twisting stairs. As he reappeared a few moments later, Harry and Ron walked in.

"Where is Teddy?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Sleeping upstairs. Some godfather you are, Potter," Draco sneered… but it was tired and not filled with much malice.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked over at Ron who pulled a bottle out of his robes with a flourish.

"Firewhiskey?" Ron offered. He purposely ignored Draco (who didn't seem to mind) and offered the bottle to Malcolm.

"Sure! I love that stuff," Malcolm grinned. "Let's all sit down and have a drink while everyone else is outside. I here you are famous, Harry. Explain yourself."

"Can we choose a more interesting topic?" Draco grumbled.

"Yeah. I don't fancy talking about myself, thanks," Harry said. Draco looked over at him curiously and Harry stared back.

Ron shrugged and made a few glasses appear out of thin air on the table.

"Weirdest night ever," he said.

They all sat in a circle in the living room and Malcolm popped open the bottle.


	59. Chapter 59

"Mum, we have got to be going," Bill said and gave her a small jerk of the head to indicate Victoire in lolling sleepily in Fleur's arms. Molly was waving her wand at the remaining pile of dishes and whisking away leftover food. Arthur, Hermione and Ginny were helping her with the chairs and the table, directing them to float back to the house unaided. George and Percy had already taken their leave and Andromeda had disappeared to gather up Teddy and take him home for the evening.

Molly smiled and hugged Bill and Fleur goodbye. Ginny walked over to say her goodbyes as well and ended up getting a few hugs in return.

"You're the expert. I read your last column in the Daily Prophet. Do you really think England has any chance of beating Spain?" Bill asked.

Ginny nodded.

"If they play Donald Abbey right, I think it's a good chance. But he better watch out for Spain's beaters, they are a good deal more skilled than most people gives them credit for," she said. Bill nodded, thinking on it.

"Take care of yourself and the baby. See you later," Bill said, gave her one last hug and left with Fleur and Victoire.

"Ginny," Hermione said suddenly. Ginny turned around and saw Hermione looking at the house with a curious expression.

"Let's go see how much damage has been done," Ginny sighed and walked back into the house with her.

"I haven't said anything to anyone. I don't think it's my place to tell," Hermione said suddenly when they were out of earshot of Molly and Arthur. Ginny shook her head.

"Nor have I. They will figure it out eventually," she said with a smirk. "I can't say I'm surprised, actually. I think their relationship is strangely appropriate."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

As they walked through the kitchen, Malcolm came tiptoeing out of the living room. He caught sight of them and made a wild shushing motion.

"Don't interrupt them. They are talking," he said hoarsely. His eyes were bright but slightly red. He was whispering loudly and stumbled into a chair. He shushed it as well.

"What are you-"

"More whiskey," he said roughly and began opening cabinets and pushing aside the contents frantically.

"Aha!" he said and retrieved another glass bottle with a flourish, barely paying attention to either of them. Hermione stepped into his way and Malcolm stopped short, swaying slightly.

"You're doing this on purpose," she said. It wasn't accusatory at all, more of a statement of understanding.

Malcolm studied her blearily for a moment and then winked. Then he lumbered back into the living room.

"I was right. He's doing this on purpose," Hermione turned to Ginny. "He wants them to talk," she whispered with an expression of triumphant awe. Ginny put her finger to her lip and motioned for Hermione to follow her. They tiptoed toward the open doorway and leaned against the frame to spy. An eruption of laughter met their ears and the first thing they saw were Draco and Ron pointing their wands at each other, miming a duel. It was a disorienting sight at first, made doubly disorienting by the fact that both of them were plainly laughing _with_ each other in stupid drunkenness.

"And then," Draco gasped, wiping at his eyes, "And then this _moron_ with the broken wand decided it would be a great idea to try and curse me. The spell backfired and slugs started dribbling from his own mouth! It was pitiful!"

Harry and Ron roared with laughter.

"I swear I thought I was going to puke slugs forever. Went to Hagrid's hut and the whole time they were carrying me I was spraying slugs all over the grass!" Ron bent double and Malcolm joined in with the laughter as well.

"That's okay, though. Harry got you back. 'Member Harry? That Quidditch match in our third year?" Ron said and Harry threw his head back and guffawed, nearly dislodging his glasses.

"See here, Malcolm! Those Dementors I was telling you about- Well they used to make me faint whenever they'd get near. Lupin had taught me how to expel them. So… so _this_ asshole decided it would be hilarious to dress up like a couple of Dementors with Crabbe and Goyle to sabotage the game. I didn't know it was them so I yelled 'Expecto Patronum!' and the spell hit them so hard it bowled them over. McGonagall was SO angry! I thought she was going to put you in detention for the rest of the year! Remember?!" Harry gulped, trying to catch his breath as he laughed.

Ron bent double wheezing and clutching at his side and Draco fell back onto the couch, overcome with laughter. Malcolm poured more whiskey for them, clearly enjoying himself. All of their cheeks were tinged pink and it was obvious to Hermione and Ginny that alcohol was playing a large part in this unexpected camaraderie.

"Tell Malcolm about that- that one time with Professor Moody," Draco hiccupped and swallowed another mouthful of Ogden's Firewhiskey.

Harry and Ron rolled in their seats, clutching their stomachs with tears streaming out of their eyes.

"I'll never forget it! One of my fondest memories!" Ron said loudly with a boisterous slap on the table between them.

"Is this the famed ferret incident?" Malcolm giggled.

Draco snorted into his glass, which sent Harry and Ron into a fit.

"Malfoy The Amazing Bouncing Ferret! I'm surprised McGonagall didn't have a heart attack right then and there when she realized it was a student," Ron raised his glass to Draco, who returned the gesture.

"I've never hated anyone more in my life!" Draco said emphatically. They all broke out into raucous laughter.

"Oh my god! Harry, remember Lockhart?! And that one time he de-boned your arm?" Draco suddenly exclaimed gleefully. "I was so pleased! You have no idea!"

"_De-boned_?!" Malcolm exclaimed.

Harry slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned in memory.

"I was horrified! It was maddening to see my arm hanging at my side like a… a… oh, I don't know, a boneless arm! It _flapped_ when I walked up to the hospital wing! I half thought I'd never play Quidditch again," Harry chuckled and took another sip of whiskey.

"It was sick," Ron made a face that sent Draco into another fit of laughter.

"Malcolm, if you haven't realized it yet… We hated each other," Harry told him.

"Whiskey solves that problem!" Malcolm raised his glass.

"Whiskey solves every problem!" Ron said.

"Here, here," Draco added and they all toasted. After each of them had taken a long gulp of the fiery whiskey, Draco stood up and wobbled slightly on his feet.

"I am completely wasted. Malcolm, take me home," he said. Malcolm stood up and drunkenly slipped an arm beneath Draco's. He kissed the top of Draco's blonde head.

"What are you kissing him for?" Ron laughed, confused. Harry clutched at his sides and bent double, now wheezing himself. They both found this very funny.

"He is my _boyfriend_," Draco slurred insistently and joined the three of them in laughing. After a few moments of staring dumbly at the both of them, a dawning of sober comprehension hit Ron and Harry like a freight train.

"What?" Ron giggled weakly, trying to focus on the two of them leaning on each other before him. Harry scratched the back of his head, looking back and forth between Ron, Malcolm and Draco.

"No _way_!" Harry breathed. He and Ron looked at each other for a moment and then threw back their heads, shrieking with laughter like school children.

"I always knew you were fancy!" Ron roared with a violent point at Draco and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"I will take that as a compliment, Weasley," Draco took a short and slightly dangerous bow. He tugged Malcolm drunkenly to the fireplace.

Hermione and Ginny decided to step into the room and make their presence known.

"You'll both come back?" Hermione asked loudly.

"Yes! You must! We have so many more embarrassing stories to tell you, Malcolm. Bring the git with you," Ron insisted and stumbled to his feet. Harry leaned back and raised a glass to them both.

Malcolm and Draco looked at each other and nodded. Then they both stepped into the fireplace and vanished.

"What in the world is going on?" Molly asked faintly as she witnessed Ron and Harry clutching each other's shirts to keep from falling over in their laughter. She and Arthur had just appeared in the living room, looking at them all with wide eyes.

"It's a long story, Mum," Ginny answered her and felt a grin tugging at her lips.


	60. Chapter 60

Draco and Malcolm stumbled into the dark living room out of the fireplace and shuffled to the couch. Malcolm collapsed with a grunt on the cushions and dragged Draco down with him.

"I'm going to hate myself in the morning," Malcolm groaned. Draco slumped on top of him and squirmed into a niche between Malcolm and the back of the couch. Malcolm rubbed Draco's shoulders and Draco slipped his arms around Malcolm- who returned the embrace with a squeeze.

"Me too. Drinking with the enemy," Draco slurred but didn't seem too perturbed by the idea that he had made a fool of himself in front of Potter and Weasley. It had something to do with the warm alcohol making his head fuzzy and his thoughts blurred. A part of his brain, numb with whiskey, told him he would regret letting his defenses down but he preferred to ignore it and instead languish sleepily against Malcolm while tucked in comfortably between him and the soft cushions.

Malcolm ignored his comment and pressed his lips against the top of Draco's head.

"You fit perfect right here," he mumbled with hot breath in Draco's ear and indicated Draco in his arms with another tight squeeze. Draco smiled, feeling a sense of tranquility he wasn't normally accustomed to and relishing his current mood in its entirety.

"Does it ever scare you that I could turn you into a toad at any moment?" Draco asked. Laughter rumbled in Malcolm's chest and then he sighed.

"Not really, no. I know you _could_ have, especially when we first met but I don't think you will now," Malcolm replied.

"Don't test me," Draco drawled teasingly.

"Speaking of when we first met… Why _did_ you help me get away from the Aurors?" Malcolm asked.

Draco made a _tchah_ noise and buried his face in the crook of Malcolm's neck.

"I don't know. I heard them yelling and chasing you through the crowd. I could see you darting through the crowd like a mad man… At first I thought you were a wizard caught doing something dangerous but then I heard them calling you a Muggle. I was curious if you actually were or not. I didn't think it was possible for a Muggle to get into Diagon Alley-" he muttered.

"I think it's because you thought I was drop dead sexy," Malcolm teased him.

"It might have had something to do with it," Draco admitted.

"I was right, then!" Malcolm said triumphantly. "To think- if I had warts all over my face you would have let me go down in flames."

"Most likely," Draco conceded and they both laughed.

"I knew you were attracted to me from the beginning," Malcolm told him.

"Oh I doubt that," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, I did. It was the way you looked at me-"

"I am positive they were looks of disgust and annoyance," Draco said placidly.

"But all the same, you couldn't take your eyes off me. You didn't _like_ me but you _wanted_ me. You've got very greedy expressions, you know," Malcolm shrugged. When Draco lifted his head to argue back, Malcolm grinned. "Come ON! Would you have _actually_ let me leave the next morning if I expressed that desire?"

Draco's lips thinned but he didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought. You would have tried desperately to disguise it as some sort of dire situation and drop hints that I would be in _grave_ danger if I decided to take my leave," Malcolm winked, eyes still bloodshot from the drink.

Draco harrumphed and laid his head down again. Malcolm, satisfied that he was correct, sank back down and closed his eyes.

A few moments passed in comforting silence. Just as Malcolm was drifting off into sleep, he felt Draco's fingers clutch his shirt.

"Tell me how I fit again," he heard the whisper against his neck.

"Perfectly. You fit perfectly," Malcolm answered. Draco then relaxed and his breathing was slow and deep.


	61. Chapter 61

"Oh no. What have I done?"

Draco's eyes popped open and he clawed his way across Malcolm. He tumbled onto the living room floor into a disheveled thump, startling Malcolm awake.

Malcolm squinted against the sunlight groggily but realized he wasn't in outright pain… yet. He probably still had enough alcohol in his system to take down a small elephant. For a moment he was distracted by thoughts of what a drunken teenage elephant would look like trying to explain to its massive mother that his tiny elephant friends talked him into it. Then Malcolm remembered that thoughts like these (and numerous mistakes of voicing them in polite company) were probably the reason he took a few 'special' classes when he was a young lad and mentally waved the images away out of reinforced habit. Grunting, he looked over to see Draco stumbling to his feet with blonde hair sticking up in all directions with a wild look in his eyes.

"What?" Malcolm croaked and made to sit up too. His head spun a little bit but his brain was still too fuzzy for it to matter to him.

Without an answer, Draco launched himself up the stairs and tripped over the bottom step. With a panicked cry he righted himself and half-crawled, half-ran up the remainder.

"WHAT?!" Malcolm yelled after him. "Whoa-" he muttered and grabbed the sides of his head. The room tilted unpleasantly when he raised his voice. So instead, Malcolm stood up and tripped after Draco up the stairs.

The bathroom door was wide open and Draco was rummaging frantically in a cabinet. His fingers weren't coordinated enough to grasp the tiny potion bottles and some of them tinkled loudly into the sink. Finally he found the one he had apparently been looking for and pulled the cork out. The contents smoked slightly from the open lid and Draco poured it into his mouth with a big swallow. He noticed Malcolm leaning (or more accurately holding himself up) against the door frame and he thrust the bottle at him. Malcolm took one look at the purple liquid sloshing around before mimicking Draco.

It was a matter of minutes as they both stood expectantly facing each other and waiting for the anti-dote to work. Malcolm's vision cleared and the contents within his head seemed to shrink down to normal size.

"I can't believe I did that," Draco whispered in lament.

"You mean having a drink with Harry and Ron?" Malcolm asked for clarification.

In answer, Draco covered his face in his hands and made a sound like a dying calf babe. Smiling now, Malcolm turned the taps on the luxurious sunken tub and steam began to fill the room.

"I remember it. Potter and Weasley were _laughing_," he moaned in horror, staring down at his own hands as if he were disgusted with himself.

"So were you. Oh, the horror!" Malcolm replied. He rolled his eyes and threw a fluffy towel at Draco. It hit Draco in the face and it seemed to bring him back to reality as he ripped it off his head.

"Did you have fun? I did," Malcolm shrugged.

Draco blinked. His grey eyes were blank for a moment and then he frowned at the towel he gripped in his thin, pale fingers.

"Of course you had fun. Now shut up and take a bath. You smell like whiskey," Malcolm waved impatiently at him but his expression was one of amusement.

"They are stupid-"

"So are you. And so am I for that matter. Everybody is stupid. This whole thing is stupid. It's great! Hurry up, I have to go to work. I need a bath too," Malcolm said as he pushed Draco toward the bath. Just as he was backing out of the door, Draco seemed to awaken. He whirled around and squinted at Malcolm with piercing eyes.

"Work? Since when do you work?"

Malcolm kept backing up until his hand was on the door knob and only his head poked through the opening.

"Since yesterday. George offered me to be a tester for the joke shop merchandise. He says if I still have my fingers after, I can be a cashier," Malcolm answered with a beatific smile and snapped the door shut as fast as he could.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he heard Draco exclaim but his voice was muffled by the closed door. Malcolm leaned his head against the wood and listened. Sure enough, he heard grumbling but after a few seconds the water was disturbed.

Malcolm turned around and saw Tibby standing on a stool dusting the curtains.

"Well that went better than I expected," he whispered to her.

Tibby fixed her enormous eyes on him and her ears twitched. She clearly had no idea what he was referring to.

"If you says so, Mister," she answered squeakily and bowed. Malcolm bowed back and left the room.


	62. Chapter 62

"Malcolm! Hurry up!" Draco shouted from the living room. He was leaning against the corner of the fireplace and tapping his fingers impatiently.

"Coming, coming," Malcolm said a little out of breath as he hurried to Draco's side. He gave him a swift peck on the cheek and the corner of Draco's lip twitched.

"You don't seem upset. I thought you would be," Malcolm grinned. Draco sighed at the sight of Malcolm's hair sticking up on the side and he reached up and smoothed it down quickly.

"And yet you insist on going anyway. I have come to a decision not to give a shit what you do. It's easier that way," Draco muttered and slapped at the stubborn patch of hair again. Malcolm flinched but Draco lunged again.

"Stay still!" he demanded and smacked his pale hand across the side of Malcolm's auburn head again.

"Hey! It doesn't work that way- You can't just shout at my hair and make it do what you want," Malcolm chuckled and snatched Draco's wrist out of the air before he made contact again.

Draco wrinkled his nose, glancing ruefully at the side of Malcolm's head and his own wrist trapped in his hand.

"I guess not. Story of my life," he grumbled.

"That's the spirit," Malcolm winked. "It's not that I don't care if you get upset… I just really want to work at the joke shop, you know?"

With this, he raised Draco's hand in the air and wrapped his other arm around Draco's waist. He started swaying from side to side in a little dance, taking Draco with him. At first, Draco was confused by what was happening. His grey eyes darted to the sides and his lower lip hung open with an unspoken question. Then Malcolm leaned in and kissed him, still swaying from side to side.

"You are so weird," Draco relented after a moment and laid his head on Malcolm's shoulder. "What am I supposed to do all day? You are going to be busy at the joke shop…" he trailed off.

"Er," Malcolm thought for a moment. "You could, erm, go visit some places."

"Wow. I'm impressed. It sure would have been an unproductive suggestion if you hadn't used all of those details," Draco said sarcastically, leaning back and raising an eyebrow. Malcolm grinned sheepishly at him.

"I guess I meant you could go see some people and make donations to good causes," Malcolm answered matter-of-factly. "Or you can wallow in misery and boredom waiting for me to get back."

"What kind of causes? What do you know about wizard's causes?" Draco asked him with a disbelieving smirk.

Malcolm ticked a few suggestions off his fingers.

"There's that magic hospital you people have, St. Mango's-"

"Mungo's," Draco corrected him blandly, looking at him with interest.

"Whatever. _Or_ there are a few departments in the Ministry you could help, like the Department of Magical Games and Sports or any of the Muggle relations departments. I bet you could even donate to your old school. I bet there are kids who go there who don't have money for books and such. That would be nice, right?" Malcolm asked.

Draco registered the mask of innocence on Malcolm's features but there was something in his brown eyes that told Draco this wasn't a suggestion Malcolm was pulling out of thin air. This was something he had thought of before and was taking the opportunity to voice it. Draco got the fleeting impression that Malcolm wasn't as stupid as he pretended to be sometimes. _Slytherin_, something whispered in the back of Draco's brain and he had a sudden triumphant feeling, as if he had stumbled onto an answer he hadn't thought to ask before.

"You must think I'm made of money," Draco replied after a few moments under Malcolm's hopefully insistent stare.

"Aren't you?" Malcolm grinned, looking around at the luxurious surroundings. "It's just a suggestion, anyhow."

"Yes, I'm sure," Draco replied coolly. "I will consider it."

_So that's how he does it! A little poke here, a little prod there. Dropping hints and guilt trips, feeding the better part of me with charm and laughs. He is a wily little shit with some sort of personal master plan! _Instead of feeling horror at these realizations, Draco felt a sense of calm… like a person coming home after a long trip away. It was all starting to make sense. He felt an insane urge to throw his head back and laugh.

"So the plan is this: You take me by Floo powder on the way there and then I'm going to come back on my own so I can start getting the hang of traveling like this by myself," Malcolm said brightly, clasping his hands together.

"And if it turns out Squibs can't travel on their own-"

"Then George or Ron will bring me back. If I don't come back at all tonight it'll be because I've managed to lose myself in Belgium or somewhere equally far enough away to be problematic," Malcolm shrugged. Draco smiled and shook his head at this.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Draco said and pulled Malcolm with him. He still felt giddy as he flung Floo powder into the roaring fireplace. The flames turned emerald green and they both stepped into the warmth.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" Draco shouted and they were both instantly sucked away.

They both arrived inside the joke shop, thankfully managing to stay on their feet. There was a blur of red and a shout of "Malcolm!" and suddenly Malcolm was vigorously shaking hands with Ron and being cuffed genially on the shoulder. George came out from behind the counter and came over to greet Malcolm as well with a broad smile on his freckled face. They both started chatting animatedly with Malcolm. Draco listened to snatches of their conversation as he gazed lazily around the store front.

"Glad you got here alright-"

"Yeah, I-"

"Show him the new stuff we just put out-"

"Nah, he's just had breakfast-"

"I don't need all of my fingers-"

In the jumble of the conversation, Draco was conveniently ignored. It suited him just fine as both of the Weasleys shunted Malcolm around the room and pointing to various items on the shelves. Draco waited a few more minutes, wondering if he should just go home or leave through the front doors to 'visit places' as Malcolm had suggested.

"Oy! Ferret!"

Draco gritted his teeth, feeling instantly niggled. Ron was leaning around a shelf display of blue bottles of Everlasting Bubbles with a slight frown on his face.

"What do you want Slug boy?" Draco narrowed his eyes at him, feeling for the wand in his pocket.

"Mum wants Malcolm to visit again this week. And you too," Ron added as if he couldn't believe the words he was speaking. Draco relaxed his grip on his wand.

"Is that wise?" Draco drawled, watching Malcolm following George to the back.

Malcolm turned around and waved at Draco. He nodded back and Malcolm disappeared behind a curtain. He instantly heard a small explosion and a cry of "AWESOME!" and he sighed in resignation. This was really happening.

Ron rubbed at a spot of soot on his long nose in contemplation. Then he shrugged.

"Can't be much worse than it was last time, eh?"

Draco felt his ears going red and noticed Ron's had gone the same way.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Ron asked, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"That we haven't cursed each other yet?" Draco replied. "I haven't ruled it out."

"I mean… I _hate_ you," Ron said in the same bemused manner and scratched at the back of his neck.

"The feeling is mutual," Draco replied calmly.

"Six o'clock on Thursday?"

"We will be there."

Ron and Draco stared at each other for a few moments. Then Draco walked swiftly to the front doors, unlocked them and swung them open. He looked down at a long line of people waiting in the street waiting anxiously for the joke shop to open and turned back to see Ron waving violently at him to shut the doors.

"We aren't open yet!" Ron hissed, cutting a finger across his own throat and ducking behind the counter.

Draco grinned and then turned to the crowd.

"THEY ARE OPEN NOW!" he roared so everyone could hear him and openly laughed as the rush to be the first in the joke shop jammed at the door.

He heard a distinct growl of frustration behind him. Satisfied and beaming, Draco pushed through the crowd toward Gringrott's bank with a skip in his step. He suddenly felt quite generous and debated whether or not he should visit St. Mungo's first or call a meeting with the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Board of Governors.


	63. Chapter 63

A few days later, Draco was lounging on the couch flicking his wand at a pillow to make it hover when the flames in the fireplace turned green and Malcolm rolled to a stop at his feet. This particular evening, Malcolm was happily sporting a copious number of nose hairs and buck teeth.

Draco raised his eyebrow for an explanation. Malcolm shrugged, still lying on the floor highly resembling a human walrus.

"It'll go away in a minute," Malcolm said. As he spoke, the nose hairs shrank back into his skull and the large teeth were getting smaller by the second.

"New product?" Draco prompted.

"Something like that. It's a new line of ocean themed candy. George says he still has to work on it. I was supposed to have flipper hands but it didn't work," Malcolm told him. Now he looked completely normal and Draco was inwardly thankful it wasn't permanent… otherwise he would have had to murder George. And then Malcolm, come to think of it.

"If you're done laying on the floor you can join me," Draco invited with a pat on the couch. Malcolm staggered to his feet and sank into the cushions with a grateful groan.

"I do love this job but it's tiring. Just today we had over seven hundred people come in. And I think I sold a Princess daydream potion to a banshee," Malcolm shuddered. "Can you imagine prince charming having to kiss that? Madness."

Draco nodded. He had a strange expression on his face.

"What's up with you?" Malcolm asked. "Everything alright?"

"I've been voted in the Board of Governors for Hogwarts," Draco said.

"Whoa, really?" Malcolm asked, suddenly gleeful. But Draco was strangely subdued and contemplative. That's when Malcolm noticed the official-looking letter laying open in Draco's lap.

"I made a rather large donation. My father… My father used to be one of the governors," Draco told him with a pained expression. Malcolm noticed.

"I know what you are thinking but you shouldn't think of it that way, Draco. This is great news! You've got a chance to make a difference."

"I bought my way in-"

"Who cares? Money always talks. Don't you go start regretting this! It will be a good start getting back in the game, don't you think?" Malcolm asked. "Aren't you happy?"

Something flickered in Draco's eyes. He gave a small smile with an air of not knowing whether he should be pleased or not.

"Maybe I am happy about it," he said in a low voice with his grey eyes fixed on the letter in his lap.

"Good. Show those turds whose boss!" Malcolm poked the letter in his lap. Draco cracked a bigger smile and held out the letter for Malcolm's inspection.

It was indeed an official letter, signed and sealed by all of the current governors. Beaming, Malcolm handed it back and Draco reverently placed it on the table.

"Now onto business," Draco suddenly said and pushed Malcolm down into the cushions. He lowered his head and began nibbling on Malcolm's lips.

With a groan of want, Malcolm rallied quickly from his surprise and pulled Draco's sweater off while Draco frantically unbuttoned Malcolm's pants.

"Good Lord- they should vote you in every day," Malcolm said appreciatively when Draco shed his own pants and tossed them across the room. Draco gave him a sly grin and bent down to kiss Malcolm's exposed abdomen with heated lips.

"I suppose you can write to them. '_Dear Governors, Please repeatedly vote my boyfriend in every day. It makes him horny_.' I think you should," Draco lifted his head up to laugh. Malcolm felt a rush like hot electricity flood through his veins at those words and every thought in his head flew out like someone extinguishing a candle.

He pushed himself off his back and grabbed a fistful of Draco's blonde hair to yank his mouth down to meet his. Draco let out a muffled noise of surprise but pulled Malcolm on top of him.

Malcolm groped and kneaded every part of Draco he could manage to get his hands on, intent on devouring anything and everything about him. Draco slipped his hand inside Malcolm's underwear and made a satisfied sound that nearly drove Malcolm over the edge of sanity. Malcolm's muscles tensed and he pressed his hips forward in needy manner, still torn between a desire to kiss every part of Draco's body and a desire to flip him over and have his way with him immediately.

"It's not just me then, is it?" Draco teased him, hot breath in Malcolm's ear and on his neck. His own heart pounded fitfully beneath Malcolm's warm weight and his hip pushed upward as if it had a mind of its own, pleased by what he found when he did so.

Malcolm grunted confirmation. Then he ripped his head back and groaned, eyes shut and teeth clamped together when Draco's grip between his legs began to tighten and massage with greater intensity. Suddenly, his hand was gone and Malcolm found himself with his head against the back of the couch and Draco straddling his lap, now underwear-free.

"Oh god… please-" Malcolm sucked in his breath.

The words had barely left Malcolm's mouth when Draco settled down upon him with a moan of pleasure. It was as if another bolt of white hot lightning rocked through Malcolm's body- his thighs tightened, his stomach muscles clenched and his spine arched off the cushions. His hips thrust upward in rhythm with Draco's movements. Draco made wild clutching motions at Malcolm's shoulders and arms until he finally was able gain hold with digging fingers into Malcolm's upper back.

Malcolm grabbed his hips and pulled him further down. "Ah!" Draco shouted suddenly, breath hitching in his throat. Malcolm groaned against Draco's heated shoulder. He pulled Draco further down again. Another shout escaped his lips and Draco's body began to quake violently in his arms.

_Thank you, Governors!_ The thought flashed across Malcolm's brain before being chased away by the noises and feelings of complete abandon and, finally, surrender that came pounding down upon them both.


	64. Chapter 64

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks to Carrot-Bunny for sparking this idea. I apologize for not writing lately. Busy busy on my end. But here it is, I hope you all like it.**

It was the next evening. Draco paced in front of his fireplace and kept looking over the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room. Instead of chiming the time (it was after all very late) it ticked mercilessly past dinner time. Malcolm still hadn't stumbled into the living room. Draco picked at a thread on his sleeve and looked back over to the clock. It was past eight.

"Stop ogling," the grandfather clock wheezed at him. Draco ground his teeth together and yanked his traveling cloak over his shoulders.

_He is probably helping close up shop. Or George and Ron are force feeding him those stupid magic walrus candies. He must have flippers now. That has to be it._

"If he isn't back in two minutes," Draco muttered to himself and cast a worried glance at the fireplace. He could pretend all he wanted to be angry with Malcolm but an hour ago he had begun to feel the worry crawling into his throat. It was threatening to choke him as the minutes ticked by.

Finally, when the clock's dusty hand ticked closer to half past eight, Draco tossed Floo powder into the flames and stepped inside.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" he said clearly and several moments later he was standing in the fireplace looking at the darkened sales floor of the joke shop.

He looked around and his heart skipped madly when it became starkly clear that Malcolm was no longer at work. The shop was closed. The lamps were dimmed. The only sounds were several pygmy puff cages shivering with the movements of their occupants and an occasional sparking and popping noise he couldn't place.

"Hello?!" he shouted. His voice bounced back to him. He took a step onto the carpet.

Suddenly a shrieking siren clashed against his ears.

"INTRUDER! INTRUDER! INTRUDER!"

Draco clamped his hands over his ears as the sirens erupted and he was blasted off his feet before he could take account of his faculties.

He slammed into a shelf and a cascade of fake crystal balls fell to the floor and rolled in all directions.

Wincing (_and probably bleeding!_) Draco pulled out his wand and shouted "Protego!" An instant invisible shield erupted in front of him seconds before another spell was shot at him. It bounced off and hit a pygmy puff cage, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh. Damn," George, clad in handsome yellow duck-printed pajamas, said when he realized Draco was lying on the floor and not somebody like Mundungus. He flicked his wand and the intruder spell ceased racketing through the joke shop. He picked up the cage of pygmy puffs and righted it back on its display shelf while the occupants squeaked angrily.

Wasting no time, Draco pulled himself to his feet.

"Where is Malcolm? What have you done with him?" he hissed angrily and cradled his aching head in his hands.

George raised an eyebrow.

"He went home two hours ago. He didn't show up?"

"_Obviously not_," Draco waved his arms to indicate that his presence was evidence of such.

"Well then why didn't you say something?" George said and immediately threw Floo powder into the fireplace, got on his hands and knees and stuck his head inside.

"I just did!" Draco shouted at him in annoyance but George couldn't hear him.

Moments later he pulled back and Ron tumbled out still dressed in his bright orange work robes. He was soon followed by Hermione.

"What's happening?"

"Malcolm didn't show up at home after he left," Ron explained to Hermione when she caught sight of Draco massaging his skull.

"Did he take the Floo Network?" she asked George.

He nodded.

"Poor bugger is probably in Ireland by now," George adopted a solemn concern and patted Draco consolingly on the shoulder.

Frustrated and mad with worry, Draco raised his wand at them all.

"This is your doing. We are going to get him back right this instant!" he snarled. Hermione stepped in front of Ron to push him back. He was suddenly red in the face and making movements like he wanted dearly to wrap his hands around Draco's throat.

"It's not _my_ doing! He probably just didn't say Asshole Manor clearly enough!" Ron spat, fuming.

"Everybody calm down! You too, Ronald!" Hermione begged until both of them lowered their wands and turned away from each other.

George disappeared and came back with a traveling cloak and dragon-hide boots with a cheery expression on his face.

"Listen to me, both of you. Let me go get Harry. Yes, Draco, we _are_ going to help you find Malcolm," she said in exasperation. She brushed her thick hair out of her face looking very much like she would slap him as she had once done before.

"Do you think we'd really let our cousin wander around in Argentina or something?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"That would be bad luck, that. I hear Argentinians don't like unknown wizards popping into their fireplaces. But he's probably just wandering around the English countryside right now," George commented when Draco looked suddenly like he wanted to vomit. Hermione stuck her head in the fireplace to get Harry, who would perhaps be of better help with his Auror connections.


	65. Chapter 65

Malcolm was in Argentina. Well, he was pretty sure it was Argentina but he couldn't be positive. He _was_ positive, though, that the burly mustached gentlemen who had thrown him bodily from the second story apartment building were somewhat ticked off that he had interrupted their card game.

"Sorry!" he shouted behind him as he hobbled away dragging a bruised leg he had obtained from his not-so-soft landing on the apartment complex lawn. Satisfied that the intruding wizard was running off, one of the pot-bellied men slammed the window shut.

"Mad," Malcolm muttered to himself and trotted down the side street nursing a scrape on his arm.

_I need to find a pub or something like the Leaky Cauldron,_ he thought. Then he realized he had no idea where he was or where he needed to go to find a distinctly wizarding establishment to get home. And then he had an uncomfortable thought- _I don't know if I will recognize it for what it is._

How in the world did he end up here? After an hour of trudging down the streets and ignored by everybody he stopped to ask for directions, he saw a stand of post cards that told him he was indeed stuck in Buenos Aires, the capital city of Argentina.

"Do you speak English?" he inquired of a young couple walking hand in hand down the side walk. They looked him up and down before hurrying away. He was sure he looked like a mess with grass stains all over his robes and a hefty bruise rising up on his chin.

"Excuse me! Do you know where I can find some wizards who speak English?" he asked an older woman passing. She narrowed her eyes at him and took wide berth.

It occurred to Malcolm that if he came across anybody who wasn't bothered by his distinctly weirdo appearance enough to at least give him the time of day, he only had a pocket full of wizarding money. He wasn't sure if he could buy a bus ticket with galleons even if he _could_ get help.

"It's going to be a long night."


End file.
